


Normal Life is Hard for Heroes like Oliver and Felicity

by quart1146



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrow - Fandom, olicity - Fandom
Genre: AU story line, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Oliver, Smut, Summer of Olicity, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 296,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quart1146/pseuds/quart1146
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity have driven off leaving Starling City and their lives behind. This is my story of what happens to them after S3E23. Involves Oliver's PTSD, some of his scars explained, and the couple living REAL LIFE in AU.</p><p>Warning like the Arrow writers, I am dark. WARNING MAJOR ANGST but a great ride. The CW owes all rights to Arrow and it's characters. I own my part of the story. Come and join me!</p><p>And for anyone that wants to read the the prequel to this story read "Oliver Queen is Dead, Long Live Al Sah-Him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strange Normal Life

#####OQ#####

Oliver lie chained on his side, shivering, shaking, his very core temperature low enough he ached from the bitter cold as he lie wet in Ra's dungeon.

Ra's had not won but the odds were in his favor, for the man knew his weakness, his Achilles' heel, and had bid his time to use her against him.

First had come the hated words, "Dead, Oliver Queen is dead. He is forgotten. You are Al Sal-Him," screamed in his brain. The hood came and went, light and darkness, sometimes hands choked him until he pasted out.

Cold water woke him if he managed to sleep but the man who'd once been his friend demanded, "Embrace the words. Give her up. If you don't give her up you will die. She is no more. Oliver Queen is dead. Say the words."

"No, damn you, I won't."

"You will. Do you want her to die?"

"NO!"

"She's gone either way. You give her up or the league will KILL her. Someone will slit her throat and leave her to bleed out on the sidewalk."

"I'll kill you."

"You can't kill us all. Listen to me, she'll die if you don't let her go. She is NO MORE. CHOOSE! Her LIFE or her DEATH. CHOOSE NOW!"

He said the damn words as his head pounded and his gut burnt.

"Oliver Queen is dead. He is forgotten. I am Al Sal-Him."

He'd protected her by letting her go.

Jesus, his heart hurt but his mind blanked, knowing he had to do this.

Erasing her, he shut the door in his mind, and she was forgotten, her name and her love lost to him.

He didn't deserve her anyway.

And his heart iced over.

A killing machine emerged as the darkness entered his soul, and he embraced it like the old friend it was.

This was him, the real him.

Al Sal-Him stood alone dressed in midnight black, all but his eyes covered in league armor. He looked in the mirror, his back on fire from the brand that had yet to heal.

Still, the man who loved her, the man buried deep inside, the man called Oliver, wanted her, remembered her name, and he taunted Al Sal-Him, until, the man hidden inside erupted.

"No, I know her name. She loves me, and I love her. My name is OLIVER QUEEN."

He screamed the words in his mind, as he jerked straight up, awake and lost without her, as his stomach plummeted and his throat closed up.

Gasping, fighting the dream, fighting the heart wrenching ache of not knowing her name, and fighting to find reality, his breath coming in hard pants, as his heart pumped like he'd run a seven minute mile.

Felicity muttered in her sleep and moved closer to him, but thankfully she didn't wake up. Slowly, he returned to reality, and lie back down, staying still in the darkness. Moving, he wrapped his large frame around her, holding her loosely to him, while pressing his nose into her bare neck, breathing in her scent. He breathed in through his nose and out through his nose to create a back pressure to draw more oxygen into his blood stream as his brain worked to reason his way away from the terrible nightmare.

He needed NOW as his heart pounded and he reassured himself it was a dream, and he was not THERE. Ra's lay dead at his hand. Felicity laid alive and safe right beside him.

Gasping, he concentrated, slowing his fast heartbeat, his hard breaths, and focused on being here, not there, as he lay quietly so not to awaken her with his nightmare, something he'd done repeatedly since they'd left Starling City.

The dreams, the nightmares, and the loss of control embarrassed him, and he hated waking her up, with his dreams. Their first fight had been after a week of sleeping together. She'd caught him sneaking out of their bed, carrying his pillow, leaving her to sleep alone.

His excuse that he'd bother her with his restless nightmares infuriated her beyond belief. He'd never seen her madder. She'd been livid, and didn't care when he'd explain to her he'd slept more with her in his arms than he had in years.

"Damn you, I don't want to sleep alone anymore. I want to sleep with you."

She'd screamed at him, incredibly furious at him. Even after he'd explained, he knew he scared her at night in his panic, even after he'd told her he was protecting her again, this time from him, she'd exploded.

BOOM, EXPLODED.

Like threw her pillow at his head and yeah, he'd caught it, but she still threw the darn thing.

Yes, his good natured Felicity turned into a roaring dragon. She'd called him selfish among other unkind names for trying to leave her alone again, screamed about her abandonment issues, and warned him to never leave her again. She'd had enough of him leaving her and had been crystal clear about her expectations.

He belonged to HER, and he would sleep with her.

She'd actually screamed at him the words, "Seriously, Oliver, in the words of my mother, I need you to shit or get off the pot. Either you be all in or get all out. MAKE A FRACKING CHOICE!"

And yeah, he'd seen angry Felicity before but nothing like fuming mad Felicity.

She'd made her point loud and clear she knew he had nightmares, and he could stop trying to protect her from the person him was or else. Then she'd kissed him and pushed him hard against the bed and showed him she how much loved him, and he'd slept the rest of the night spent, totally sexed out.

Who knew she did that to him?

But it only took one look from her, a touch or a word and his blood boiled and que the horny teenager in him, raging hard on and all.

WOW and then that would happen again, and he loved when that happened with her.

And if he wanted it to continue to happen, no matter how much he wanted to get up, he'd learnt his lesson. He'd stay put and wait. Dawn would break soon.

Living a normal life was harder than he thought it would be. He thought he knew her, but he found that you don't know a person until you live with them a few weeks.

She liked ketchup and salt on everything and hated sour cream.

How could you hate sour cream?

The only fruit the woman ate had lots of sugar in it, came out of a jar, or was surrounding by ice cream. She preferred her strawberries in jam and on buttered toast. Oh and cherries were good covered in chocolate. And she's never met an apple she liked.

She ate her chili with one layer of salt after the other and refused to eat more than four crackers she ate quickly and never allowed to be soggy. It was a carb and a crisp thing, she'd told him. And when she said it, he'd smiled.

What a quirk?

Yet she possessed the true gift of being able to make him smile. And he'd not spent much time smiling in the last few years.

He teased her about her future high blood pressure problems.

She teased him about how he spaced his food out evenly and the fact he ate in a circle, taking one bite from each thing on his plate, before starting over again.

Okay he liked everything to work out even.

"It's a control thing." She's replied.

He left the lid off the toothpaste, which irritated her, drove her a bit crazy, and she flossed more than any one person could or maybe should.

"Spend some time in braces, and you'll take better care of your teeth." And she'd flashed her beautiful smile at him.

And she drank out of the milk and the juice carton, and he never drank after anyone ever, to which she'd replied, "You won't drink after me, but we swap spit when you kiss me and both of us have done more than kiss on the mouth, think about it, and that's okay?"

He'd choked on his coffee, thinking about all the places his mouth had been on her body.

Speaking of coffee, she lived on coffee for breakfast, and he wanted real food, bacon and eggs and the works, real food.

She and cooking didn't belong in the same kitchen, and she could trash the kitchen in nine point two seconds in an attempt to cook, while she burnt the toast.

Quickly, he'd decided he'd cook if they ate in, which he done every chance he'd had, since he liked cooking her meals. The furnished full kitchen was one of the perks of this cottage they'd rented. He'd cooked almost every night the last week and there was something about creating the food she ate and enjoyed that pleased him deep inside.

He liked showers, and she preferred a bath. However he hoped to sway her soon and talk her into taking a long shower with him.

His dick twitched again but he ignored it.

She liked top 40's, Pop music and rap.

He hated rap with a passion, a real passion, but he loved her with a real passion too, therefore, he accepted her crazy loud, ANNOYING, think I'll run the beach if your listening to that, music.

He had OCD when it came to how he wanted his clothes folded.

"Okay." She'd dropped his clean clothes on the bed with a smirk. "Fold them yourself and they'll be done right. Problem solved."

She given him a thumb's up and walked out of the bedroom.

And he'd watched her ass on her way out laughing.

Alright, he liked things kept neat and she didn't.

She left her clothes on the floor at night and sometimes, not always, picked them up the next morning, and the list of what she did to make him crazy grew every day.

Is that hard to put your glass or plate in the dishwasher and not in the sink?

Or she would leave it where ever she finished with it.

At least she didn't drink her milk in a glass.

Candy bar wrappers belong in the trash right? Not on the table, or the bed stand or coffee table or floor.

She left her tablet and phone chargers plugged in at all times and everyone knew they were electric vampires, who sucked power even when a device wasn't attached.

But she believed in recycling.

Go figure?

Some days he didn't know if he would or could survive being in love with her because she made him bat shit crazy.

However, some parts of living together a somewhat normal life were rewarding.

Unable to sleep, his mind spinning, he propped his head up with his fist and watched her sleep in the pale sunrise, and yes, he admitted, this part of normal had rewards. The dream mainly gone, he lay content and watched her, listened to her breathe slowly in and out with her back to his chest, as they spooned in the bed, and he filed the memory away.

He found it unbelievably strange to lie here and feel happy, incredibly happy, especially as he stared at an unsure future with nothing to do and the constant threat of their relationship not working out.

As a man who normally had a plan, this unsure life with Felicity was a landmine field waiting to blow up in his face. Yet, he foolishly got up every morning and took another step while he waited for everything to blow up.

God, she made him insane, and he made her exceedingly crazy in return, and why would he think he could make this choice to go away with her and all their problems would magically disappear?

What did he think would happen?

They would drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after?

What the hell had he been thinking?

The relationship fresh and new, aimlessly, they'd traveled together down the coast. Wandering freely, escaping into the unknown like his dream, only better because now he never woke up and when he did wake in the morning it was real. They ate when they were hungry and stopped when something of interest popped up, which meant they'd had a lot of sex, since both of them couldn't keep their hands to their self.

Yet, the problems still lurked and damn, how stupid could he be?

He didn't know how to be happy with her or without her. They couldn't talk without him shutting down. Okay, loved her but even if he found he couldn't wipe the silly grin off his face, he wasn't going to share what had happened to him.

His secrets were his alone.

Those thoughts wiped the smile from his face.

How much more time did he have before she left him?

This life was surreal, and he knew didn't deserve her.

And, he and her were absurdly adrift, with no direction and facing the unknown. Not unlike when he'd been adrift in the lifeboat before he arrived at the island. His entire life changed the moment his feet hit the sand on the island, and again the moment he'd gotten in the car with her, only this time for the better since he'd gotten Felicity.

However, it was odd, strange, not to have a direction, a goal or even an enemy to fight against, and he couldn't help he looked over his shoulder, expecting danger to crop up at any moment, still intent that nothing would ever happen to Felicity. He'd brought two EpiPens for her peanut allergy, for goodness sake. And they were safe, since Merlyn led the league, but old habits die hard.

He pushed the thought of Merlyn away knowing he was still lying to her, still keeping things from her. Merlyn being head of the league for one, and he had a feeling he hadn't seen angry until she figured out the deal he'd made for Merlyn's assistance with Ra's included handing the league over. But he'd deal with that later, okay, when she figured it out most likely, and he'd deal with the fallout. God help him.

Her hand moved and cupped his hand, and he smiled knowing Felicity was as lost in this strange world called normal life as he was. Like him, she had no direction, with no computer problems to fix, no code to write and no computers to hack. She and he were adrift in this unknown life now, and she'd taken a huge leap of faith to leave her life and come with him.

Jesus, he loved her for leaving with him, even after all times he'd hurt her by not choosing her, the lack of the trust concerning Ra's, and the countless lies and secrets still between them, but she'd still got in that car and left with him.

And she'd even stayed with him after John called her with the bad news that Palmer had blown the top floors of Palmer Industries up and was missing. They still hadn't found Ray's body or that suit of his.

Fear had gripped him, knowing she'd wanted to go home. He'd even offered to take her home after John's call, but she'd decided they'd wait for more information before they returned to Starling City.

He'd been relieved she hadn't wanted to go back. Not that he'd shared that news with her. Nor had he shared that he wasn't sure he'd ever want to return, and if he did would he ever have the courage to leave again?

He didn't know and didn't want to find out.

But he did know it'd be easy to go back to chasing the bad guys to deal with his still burning rage, and might lose Felicity if he made that choice.

So, no, he never wanted to return.

She sighed in her sleep, and he brushed a small kiss to her hair and inhaled her scent and contentment filled him. No, as strange as normal was, he wanted normal desperately.

She snuggled closer to him, and he hardened. Needing a distraction, he searched his brain for the name of the town they were staying in. They were somewhere on the Texas coast. She'd found them a tiny house to rent right on the gulf, near a small town, where no one knew his name or cared about the league or Starling City.

They'd been in this house over a week, and even though he liked the traveling part of their new life, he was happy to stop for a while and enjoy the strange peace of trying to live together.

Stroking her hair carefully, he wanted to wake her, but he refrained. Instead, he wondered how she could fit next to his body perfectly and feel right. With his large body and her tiny one, the way they fit together amazed him, but damn she completed him for some reason.

He'd spent years looking at her with quick glances and long stares when she wasn't watching, and she'd turned him on to the point of distraction. Rising higher up on his elbow, he looked at her face, staring without guile and it almost made him high as he drank her beauty in.

She said she loved him.

But how could she love him?

He didn't understand. How could she want him since he was unbelievably damaged goods?

Her face marred as she frowned in her sleep, and he wondered if she dreamed of him choosing to trust Merlyn over John and her and deceiving them both. Or maybe she dreamed about him choosing the city instead of her, or him sabotaging Ra's plane.

She frowned again and he knew she must be dreaming about the plane.

They had fought about the plane last night. She'd accused him of not thinking of her and acted like he'd set out to betrayed her since he'd planned to die. How could he not come home to her?

And yes, he'd admitted he'd planned to leave her alone and had given her no choice in the matter and she'd exploded yet again.

His mind rehashed the argument.

"And you were going to blow up with the plane? Frack, Oliver, how could you do that to me?"

"I wasn't doing it to you. I was saving you, trying to destroy the virus. I needed to keep everyone safe."

"That excuse is a cop out. If you'd trusted you team we would have helped you."

"I had to keep the circle small. I . ."

"Never mind. I don't want to hear it. You can't fix the lies, or the fact you planned to die and abandon me. Frack I'd have never known how you died. I would have waited for you." Her voice cracked.

"I just want to protect you, keep you safe. I don't know what you want from me. "

"I WANT YOU TO LIVE YOU FOOL. I WANT YOU TO PROMISE YOU'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN."

And he'd hung his head and looked at his shoes, knowing he couldn't.

She sniffled and she'd hurried away from him, slamming the door behind her.

Your a stupid fool he thought among other things until she thankfully come back, and he apologized yet again.

But nothing had changed and they both knew it.

He was still willing to die if need be, and she wanted him to live, but she'd come back and wrapped her arms around him and made love with him while whispering "I'll give you something to live for," as she took him.

Yeah, wow, the making up part of normal was past awesome, and sex with her made him come harder than he ever had in his life. Yes, making love with her was intense and very fulfilling and his dick was ready to do it any time of the day or night.

His dick twitched again, as he imaged touching her, but again, he didn't reach. No, he'd let her sleep. He'd kept her up very late last night, proving to her how much he loved and wanted her.

So, he could wait a few more hours and leave her be, yet it was hard not to kiss her neck, it was hard not to let his mouth and hands touch where he truly wanted to touch and already he was getting hard again.

And no matter how many times he touched her, it'd never to be enough, since he'd always want more. How had he lived this long without loving her with his body and not only with his mind and his eyes? How long had he imagined being right here, holding her warm body beside him?

Too damn long, and heaven help him, he didn't want to screw this up, even though she was painting him into a corner over her emotions and his. Another major fight loomed in the future. He could see it coming since she refused to give up what had happened during his time with Ra's.

"Come on, try to tell me, Oliver. I'll understand, if you talk to me. But you have to try."

But he didn't quite believe her.

Oh yes, she wanted him to open up, to let her in, to share his thoughts with her, along with his experiences and his memories. But he refused to talk about it, couldn't talk about his dark parts or expose the truth to the light that was her, not yet, not now, and maybe, not ever.

She believed she knew him.

But she didn't know him at all.

Oh, she'd seen a little of the darkness that dwelled inside him. But she didn't know he could be harsh and ruthless, a true killer, and deep down he didn't believe she would stay with him, if she knew the terrible vicious things he'd seen and done in his life. He lived in terror that one day, she'd wake up and see the real him, and she'd hate him for the evil things he'd done, for the men he'd tortured and killed, and for the things even he couldn't forgive or forget.

His own self-hate fed his dreams at times, and in those dreams, he woke up alone in a queen size bed empty and cold. She'd seen the real him, seen the darkness he had buried deep, and left him alone.

These dreams tormented him often, especially after they fought.

But, he couldn't share like she wanted him too. Too many of her questions lately had been about what had happened to him at Nanda Parbat. And no matter how many times she asked, he sidestepped.

He didn't want to talk about Ra's torment to her or anyone.

What good would it do to talk about his time in the dungeon? It was over and he couldn't bring his misery to the light of day and share it with her. The last thing he wanted to talk about was how hard he'd fought Ra's attempts at drugging him, or about Ra's attempts at mind control and how close he'd came to breaking.

He couldn't tell her he'd killed again to satisfy Ra's.

What good would it do to speak of the beatings he'd endured or the constant sword fights and the countless men he'd killed for Ra's sport during practice?

And he'd never speak of how it'd shattered his soul to shut the cell door while he looked in her eyes.

Thinking, what if all of them died today?

He'd loved all of them in that cell that day except Ray and Merlyn, but he'd known that all of them could die, especially her.

And he'd shut that damn door or risk Ra's killing them all and the innocent people in his city.

But how do you tell the woman you love that you'd gambled everything on the hope Malcolm Merlyn had truly inoculated them all, that he hadn't been sure, and he could have been leaving them to die?

He couldn't save them so he shut his mouth and kept his secret and he stayed with her, even though he knew the longer he kept his mouth shut, the worse the fall out would be when she found out the truth.

Yet, he locked down all his pain and darkness and kept the bad things from Felicity, while he wondered what she kept from him.

Jesus he'd built their relationship on quicksand.

The birds began waking up outside, and the sun lit the early dawn. The gulf's waves broke on the sand and strangely, the sound comforted him. He was drawn to the water, hence, they'd stayed on the coastline most of their trip. The island would always be with him, it seemed. Yet, when she'd asked if he wanted to go sailing, something he'd mentioned he'd enjoyed as a boy, he'd fought panic.

No, he wouldn't to go back out on the ocean. The ocean wasn't a thing he could control, and he would never endanger her as he had Sara. NO, the ocean would be too dangerous for them both.

Realizing he clutched his pillow in a death grip, he loosen his arm and relax.

Again, he inhaled her vanilla and some sweet flower shampoo scent, and he lay back down. He concentrated on slowing his heart rate, on breathing in and out.

Yawning, he reached for normal thoughts.

What were they going to do today?

Yes, he remembered, Felicity wanted to go swimming in the gulf. Okay, he could handle that. Together, we can do this strange normal life, and he was almost content as he drifted back to sleep.

#####OA#####


	2. Felicity Buys a Swim Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity talks to John and buys a swim suit.

Felicity awoke slowly, tangled up in Oliver's body. Carefully, she pulled herself free from his warm embrace, somehow without waking him, which was amazing since he hardly slept, and she padded on silent bare feet over to the bathroom. That business taken care of, she picked her clothes up off the floor and dressed in a simple sun dress and went to the small kitchen and made coffee.

Her phone vibrated and seeing John's name, she smiled and answered the call.

"Hey, John, good morning! Any news on Ray?" She stepped out on the small front porch to watch the waves lap against the sand, while she talked, hoping Oliver would sleep on. Goodness, she knew he needed to sleep. How did he survive on such little sleep?

"Hey, Felicity." John's rich voice washed over her. "No, nothing has changed. Just thought I'd check it see how things were. Are you having fun?"

"Loads." She peeked in the window and made sure Oliver still slept on, then settled in a chair on the porch, and sighed deeply. "John, I'm going to kill him. Seems like all I do is yell at him."

"Is he fighting back?"

"A little." She sighed again. "Mainly, I yell and he looks at the ground like the answers are written there."

"Sounds like Oliver. Ignore those emotions, shut them off and they'll go away. Then lie to yourself and everyone else."

"John, be nice. I know you're mad at him, but he's still not the Oliver we knew before the league. Ra's changed him. Now I swear there's a real darkness lurking below the surface, much worse than before. He's even worse damaged than when I first met him."

"As if that's possible. But he's treating you all right, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, but he hardly sleeps at all. The nightmares haunt him, and he won't open up to me, won't talk about them, won't talk about what happened when he was with the league. Did you know they branded him? Like he was a cow who belonged to them. Just think what else they did to him he won't talk about."

"He needs time, Felicity. He has PTSD just like a solider coming back from war. And he's never been one to talk about his feelings and his experiences. You knew that when you fell for him."

"Maybe you could call him, John? Talk to him."

"I don't think so."

"Come on, I know he misses you. He looks sad when he checks his messages. I know he's been texting you. You could answer him."

"I'm still deleting his texts. I'm not ready to talk to him in any shape or form. Not yet. Leave it alone, Felicity. Worry about your relationship with him not my relationship with him."

"Well if that's what you want to call it. This is hard, John. We're not doing the happy ever after thing here."

"Some things are good though? Right?"

"We can't stay in bed all the time even though that's a thought since that part."

He interrupted her. "Felicity, stop, I don't want to know this. Stop talking right now. TMI for God's sake."

She laughed before adding, "Sorry! Okay, I don't know how, but I guess we'll figure this out."

"Time, you both need time. And for now this is what he has to give you. Just remember he's never slept much. Why do you think he spent all that time on patrol as the Arrow?"

"I remember. But how do I help him when he won't tell me what's bothering him?"

"Everything bothers, Oliver. Believe me. And you're helping him by just being there for him, by staying with him. He doesn't believe you'll stay, and you're going to have to prove to him you're in this for the long haul."

"I know emotions are extremely hard for him, and me, I'm like an emotional buffet. The all you can eat type." Felicity blushed as she remembered Oliver's mouth on her body and added, "John, forget I just said that."

He chuckled then replied, "Felicity, for years, I think Oliver survived by not having emotions, and now he's engulfed by them. You need to give him time to deal with living with you, with feeling something besides nothing. But he loves you, Felicity. I still mad as hell at him, but he deserves to be happy. I want both of you to be happy. And I don't think you know how deeply he loves you, or what he'd do for you."

"I love him too, but I never thought living together would be this hard. I'm struggling here, John. He's not a code I can rewrite or a computer I can rebuild."

"Life's a struggle, Felicity and I've watched you both struggle over each other for years now. He's wanted you forever and wouldn't reach out for you. I've watched him torture himself watching you. Besides, he had a terrible time dealing when you were with Ray."

"He caused that choice. I refuse to feel guilty about it."

"I'm not asking you to. But did you know after your first date with Ray, he destroyed part of the lair?"

"What?" She couldn't help the smile that crept on her face.

"Oh, yes, he did. Roy told me that he admitted he wasn’t alright. He wasn’t alright because you were with Ray.”

“He told me he was fine with my being with Ray, and he wanted me to be happy at your and Lyla’s wedding.”

“Jesus, Felicity, wake up, he lied. I kept waiting for him to punch Ray out at the reception, but all he did was watch from a distance.”

“No way. He did not. He . . .” Her brain churned remember that yes, everytime she had looked his way he had looked down during the reception. He had done his best man duties and done nothing else but watch the crowd.

 

“Was green with jealously. Only other time I’ve ever seen Oliver act like that was when Barry first showed up and you showed interest in him.”

“Oh, frack. John, I never knew. I thought he was being his normal protective self. Why are you telling me this now?”

“I’ve tried to talk to you about Oliver before and you shut me down. But now you two have done it. You’ve broken free of the city living together. It’s a big step for both of you.”

“No, it’s getting to be more like a free falling leap off the Grand Canyon, knowing you’re going to crash and burn.”

Dig laughed. “I guess you have to be careful what you wish for. Yu wanted Oliver and you got him. So deal with him. And as to Ra’s be grateful that for the first time he wants to live and be with you, so live with him, be with him. Work through it."

"I know all that but I'm making him crazy. How did you and Lyla manage when you first got together?"

"We fought like demons and divorced."

"That's not helpful, John. Really not helpful. Not even close. Wrong answer."

"I never said I had all the answers. Hey, you have to keep trying. Look I've got to go, Sara's crying. She's probably wet or hungry. Or both."

"Kiss her for me. And John, please think about talking to him. He needs someone he can talk to and most days lately, it isn't me."

"I'll think about it. Bye."

"Stop thinking and start doing."

John hung up on her.

She jumped as the door opened, and Oliver stepped out, bare chested in a pair of sweat pants, riding low on his hips. Swallowing hard, she pushed down the sexual rush he caused from being near him. "Morning. Hey, were you talking to John?" He looked down at the ground, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah, he was checking on us."

"Problems?"

"Only ours. Forget I said anything. No everything’s fine, except still no news on Ray."

Nodding, he pressed his lips together and looked toward the gulf, watching the waves for an instant, his face unreadable.

Could Oliver be jealous of Ray? She turned the idea over in her head.

"I'm hungry. You?"

 He broke into her thoughts as he held out his hand to her, and she reached and placed her hand in his. "No, but the coffee should be ready. I put it on before John called."

He opened the door for her. "Well let me cook us something to eat."

"You know it's incredibly weird you know how to cook."

"I survived for five years by myself. A man has to do what he has to do. Come on you can watch me eat, and I'll watch you drink coffee." And he smiled at her with his goofy grin she loved.

######OQ######

Uncomfortable surrounded by bikinis and swim suits in the small shop on the board walk, he sat waiting for Felicity to finish trying on whatever swim suit she'd finally decided on. He hated shopping and wasn't thrilled to be here.

But when she exited the changing room, in a skimpy, red polka dotted two piece bikini, his mouth went dryer than the desert. His brain shut down, and he instantly started thinking with his dick. He wanted to cross the room and push her back into the dressing room and take her right then and there. Instead, he clutched the arms of the chair he sat in, as she sauntered toward him, giving his a real show as she put her hair up in a tight pony tail, with a red hair tie.

"Well, Oliver, what do you think?"

She tugged on the bikini top, adjusting it as she eyed herself in the floor length mirror that gave him a fantastic view of both the front and back of her body, and wanted her and now.

Who invented the bikini?

A sadist?

All she needed was a set of her tall heels, and he'd lose with little bit of control was keeping him in this chair. Even with flip flops on, if she wore that bikini uncovered in public, he'd be hard pressed not to beat someone up for looking at her the way he looked at her right now.

Hormones drowning him, he felt fourteen, as he hardened. Thoughts of where he could take her to be alone filled his mind, and he wasn't sure he could even restrain himself until they got back to the cottage.

Damn and sex in daylight in a Porsche equaled probably get arrested in this small of a town.

Jesus, now she worried her bottom lip with those white teeth, before she frowned, and smoothed her hands down her bare belly.  The blood had rushed south and he shifted in his seat and adjusted himself.

He was lucky she didn't she know how much he wanted her since she'd use it against him. No, as she angled her head and frowned at the mirror, he knew she didn't have a clue how much she turned him on or how much he loved her.

"Come on Oliver? What do you really think?"

That I can't form words, he thought, knowing he probably looked like an idiot when he finally managed to smile and nod. Struggling, he cleared his throat. "Felicity, have you looked at the one piece suits?"

"You don't like this one? I can try another. There's a nice blue one I liked."

"No blue!" His tone sharp, as he remembered the blue dress she'd worn for Ray, the one he’d see her kissing Ray in.

"Okay." She adjusted the top again, and he slammed his eyes shut for an instant as he licked his lips, thinking about taking that suit off of her.

Stop it, don't get any harder, he thought. How old are you today? Think dead puppies, your old dancing teacher, your mother’s friend Susan, who smelled like rotten lemons. That worked worked until he reopened his yes and saw her in that damn suit.

"No. Yes, I mean yes, I love it, buy it, but take pity on me in public." He caught her eyes and stared deep. "Felicity, that bikini makes me ache to touch your . .hmm. . . arms, if you remember what I mean. And I do mean right now."

She looked perplexed then blushed and met his eyes, and he could swear electricity flew between them. Oh, yeah, she remembered when he'd told he that when he touched her arms he really wanted to touch her everywhere with his mouth, and he meant everywhere!

"Ooooo! My arms. Well, yes, maybe a one piece would be better." And she fled back into the dressing room.

"Felicity, get the red polka dotted one too but please hurry."

#####OQ#####

"You're aware you're speeding?" She smiling brightly at him and he gripped the steering wheel harder as his dick throbbed with each beat of his heart.

"Oh, yes, I'm aware, very aware. Trust me."

"You're going to get a ticket. Did you know I haven't ever had a ticket? Safe driver here. Very safe driver. Can't say the same about you. Not safe. At all."

“You’ve know that for years.” He reached and slid his hand down her arm moving her hand to cup him for an instant, proving how much he wanted her.

She blushed, gulped and gave him a very wicked smile. "By the way, Oliver, I seriously don't have panties on. No panties at all. None. Zero. Zip. No panties. Poof gone."

He groaned out loud. "Felicity, why would you tell me that?"

"To drive you crazy," she replied smugly. "Did it work?"

"Did it work? Are you insane? I'll pay the ticket." He caught another gear and then down shifted as he braked hard and turned into the driveway. The car had barely stopped moving when he unbuckled both of their seat belts, flung the door open and pulled her into his arms.

His lips crashed against hers, as he carried her up the steps to the porch, and pressed her against the door of the house. She'd shattered his control with the no panties comment and between that image and the bikini, he couldn't wait anymore. No, not any more.

His lips touched her hot skin, moving to her neck, her shoulder and into her cleavage. His hands roamed freely. Fingering through her hair, he pulled her hair free of her ponytail, pocketed her ponytail holder and then buried his hands in her silky hair in all in of about two seconds. She thrust against him, teasing him while his dick pounded wanting in and he ground against her center.

Biting him on the ear, her hands roamed freely. "Key, Oliver? Open the door. I'm not doing this on the porch."

"Wanta bet?" His mouth moved down her neck. "It'd be your fault if I took you right here on the porch. Against the door."

"Oh yes, there, right there. I love it when you do that." She dug her fingers into his back, trying to pull him closer, her hands blazed a trail to his belt buckle, as she whispered in his ear. "Okay, I'm game. Here will work."

"Stop, you win; let me get the door unlocked."

Forcing himself, he drug his lips from her skin and gasped, as he tried to work the lock to the house. How did she do this to him? It was like his brain shut down when he started touching her.

"Give me the key."

She removed the key from his hand and effortlessly opened the door. Lifting her, he kicked the door shut, then set her down. Stripping the dress from her body in one fluid movement, he saw she really wasn't wearing any panties and pure lust engulfed him. How sexy was she? Sexy enough to set him on fire.

"Wow, I love exceedingly naughty Felicity. You don’t have any panties on."

“I told you that. You started it with the whole arm thing. Like I could ever forget what you want to do when you touch my arms."

Smiling, she unclasped her bra and threw it at him and he growled.

She laughed, and he absorbed the sound, as she reached and tugged at his belt, helping his aching hard dick to spring free, while he stripped his shirt off.

He needed skin, and he needed it now. Off came his shoes, his pants and his boxers and he left them in the floor, not caring at this moment where they landed. His hands and mouth were all over her, and she burned blazing hot for him so that he only made it as far as the back of the couch.

"I can't wait anymore. NOW! Let me in now." He lifted her, supporting her with one arm, while he braced her against the back of the couch, his hands touching, rubbing, though he couldn't play this time since he was too far gone in his fever for her. His trembling fingers brushed her wet core, and she moaned for him and it was all he needed.

"Yes, moan for me. I love it." He wanted to put his mouth on her core but he couldn't wait.

"Now, Oliver, do it now. Right now. Come here."

Earnestly, he thrust hard, entering her easily, trying to hold back and go easy, but she slammed against him, reaching for him drawing him deep, amazingly deep.

"Yes, oh, yes."

He rushed, already losing his pace. His thrusts sloppy, erratic, as he mindlessly needed to finish this, as he panted and gasp lost in her.

She bore down squeezing him like a vise and tipped him over the edge.

"Felicity! Oh, God."

His spine exploded, his tight balls throbbing as he came hard, and the release kept coming until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began. Gasping for air, he thrust one last time deeply as her heat absorbed him, engulfed him, and blew him away, draining him like a balloon running out of air.

"Women what you do to me. Only you, ever." The words slipped out of his mouth and he held his and her weight up by leaning against the wall.

"And only you too. Frack Oliver. That's what I'm talking about. I should take my panties off and tell you more often." Her hands rubbed his back, kneading his flesh. "Hey, put me down, I can tell you're having issues holding me up."

"Not happening. I won’t drop you." He lifted her body higher." Felicity, wrap your legs tight around me. Hold on to me tight. Let's go to the bedroom."

"You sure you can carry me?" She nuzzled his neck. "We can crash on the couch."

"It's too small for me and when haven't I been able to carry you?" He lifting an eyebrow and grinned at her, and he forced his weary frame to carry her.

She reached and pulled him down for a wicked wonderful kiss and he allowed the wall to hold them both up, while she bewitched him with her tongue.

Jesus what she could do to his mouth as she sucked his tongue.

He pulled back.

Gasping, hard. his hands roamed her firm but soft body.

"You playing with fire, woman." His body hardened inside her.

And he thrust.

She giggled as he barely managed to walk them into the bedroom before collapsing on the bed.

Falling on his back, they lay tangled up in each other, and he plunged upward making her sigh and pull him closer.

Both of them lay there for a while, almost moving but not quite, as he twisted his finger in her soft hair.

"You awake?" She touched his face.

"Yeah, but please, Felicity, you can't wear that red bikini in public."

"You don't like it? I thought I looked good in it."

"You look wonderful good it in. Good enough to eat."

“I like the way you think.” She moved against him, tempting him.

Rising up on his elbow, he tucked a blonde stand of silky hair behind her ear, as he looked in her eyes. "I love the way you look in that bikini. But i like it way too much. Don’t you remember a few minutes ago? That bikini made me lose it, well that and the no panties thing. You're lucky I didn't take you at the shop. I wanted to by the way.”

“Oliver, you did not.” She giggled and buried her face in his chest.

“Oh, yes I did. You blow me away in that suit. You're too sexy, and I swear I'll beat someone up for looking at you the way I look at you."

"Oliver! You wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, I would. Right now, I can't share your body with others. Felicity, have pity on me. I'm still adjusting to showing how much I love you. You don't realize how much I love you." He breathed out harshly. "Seeing you like that turns me on. Steals my control. I don't want to stop when it comes to you."

Reaching out, she took his hand. "Okay, one piece in public. I don't want to share you either. And do you know what you just did?"

"No, what?"

She laid her hand on his cheek. "You shared your feelings. That makes me happy."

He smiled as he realized she was right, and then leaned in and softly kissed her, breathing in her sweet vanilla scent and tried to take her slowly this time, well it started slowly.

#####OQ#####

Review if you have time. And thanks for the read.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The gulf water warm, it felt good. They swam in the gulf on the private beach in front of the house, and Oliver wasn't surprised to find that Felicity swam well. She'd grown up in Vegas, in the pool which meant, of course, she swam well. They played in water a while then returned to the towels and blanket and laid in the sun.

Content and at ease for the first time in a long time, he lay beside her, and he sighed deeply, liking she wasn't pressuring him to talk as the sun warmed his skin.

“Comfy?” She turned over and he turned his head and smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Shutting his eyes, he relished the moment.

Jerking awake, instantly he became aware of his surroundings. Rubbing his eyes, he sat straight up wondering what had woken him since he hadn't been dreaming. His senses switched on full alert as his hand reached for Felicity on the towel beside him and came up empty handed.

Calling her name, his eyes scanned the water, expecting to see her head bobbing above the waves but saw no one. 

His chest tightened as his stomach plunged and his mouth went dry.

Where was she?

His head snapped around and noted her phone, glasses and bag were on the blanket. Felicity never got too far from her phone or her glasses.

When had he dropped off?

How long had he slept?

His heart sped up.

"Felicity!" He jumped to his feet, unsure which way to go but needing to find her NOW. Again his eyes scanned the water, looking for any sign of her while horror filled him that she might have drown while he’d slept. 

No, he refused to think that since she swam well. Could he be dreaming? He scrubbed his hands over his face.

Wake up. He needed to wake up.

No, he didn't seem to be asleep. His chest constricted harder. Nausea engulfed him as his eyes scanned the empty beach again.

"Felicity." He screamed her name now, over and over, his eyes sweeping the beach, the water, his heart pounding in his ears. Alone on the beach, he called her again, anguish filling him.

"Oliver!"

He snapped his head around. Relief flooded him as he saw her walking toward him, no doubt coming from the house, as she crested the top of the sand dune, holding a water bottle and waving at him. His legs moved, and he ran toward her and sweeping her up in his arms, spinning her around, pure joy engulfing him.

She was fine and still right here with him, safe.

"Did you miss me or what?" She giggled. Her blonde ponytail bobbing in the air.

He kissed her hard, framing her face with his hands. "I love you." He told her softly as she pulled away from him.

"I love you too." She smiled that wonderful smile of hers and his stomach calmed and the pressure on his chest ceased.

"Hey, I'm getting hungry, but I think I'll take one more quick dip. Want to join me?" She reached out her hand for him but he shook his head.

"No, I think I'll watch and pack us up." He needed a second to get back under control, since he didn't want her to know he'd freaked out.

She ran into the surf, her ponytail bobbing in the sunshine, and he smiled as he watched her swim out. With precision, he folded the blanket and towels and then stood and watched her swim. A frown slipped over his face. She swam getting awful far out, maybe too far out. The water seemed too calm where she swam and the water looked muddy.  

Crap, the ever moving rip tide sucked sand off the bottom, and she’d be in trouble soon and not even know it.

“FELICITY!” He waved his arms to get her attention but she got further away.

Did he have a dark cloud following him? Would he ever catch a break?

He stripped his shirt off as he ran into the surf, knowing she’d gotten into a rip tide that would pull her out to sea. She’d drown if she fought the tide and it looked like she’d started fighting the water.

People drowned in the tides every day.

Jesus, she could drown in mere minutes before he could reach her.

He swam harder than he ever had, trying to reach her before she exhausted herself and gave up and the water pulled her under.

Roll over and float, he thought. Please, Felicity, roll over and float.

Why hadn't he talked to her about the rip tide? About what to do if you got in one? Stupid, really stupid on his part.

Never fight the tide for it will win.

Swim parallel until the tide spits you out.

Float if you can't swim anymore.

All the things he knew to do, and he hadn't made sure she knew. Sure she knew about swimming pools but not the damn ocean. 

How could he have not warned her? How could he be so stupid?

He shut the panic down, knowing if he didn't she would die. Breathing out, he became Cold Oliver and even when he reached where she should have been and found her gone, he didn't panic. Instead, he dove straight into the rip tide not caring about anything but her.

The strong tide pulled at him but he fought, searched for her.

Where are you, Felicity?

Come on, where are you?  He surfaced and gulped air and dove again.

Please God, I know I don't talk to you but now would be the time to give me a little help. Please, just a little help here. Kicking hard, he swam deeper with the tide but she wasn't there.

His head broke the water again. Sucking air, he dove again, kicking harder this time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lifeless body floating.

Adrenaline aided him as he kicked hard through the water fighting the tide. Reaching out, he grabbed her arm and pulled her lifeless body to him and kicked hard to break the surface to grasp in a deep breath.

The rip tide still had them in its watery clutches and his arms and legs tired with every stoke and kick. Her body limp and unresponsive, he knew she wasn’t breathing.

Rolling her over, he kept her head above water, as he noted her open glassy eyes. His mind screaming plans, he flipped over to float, knowing if he didn't rest for a few seconds they could both drown. 

CPR his mind insisted. NOW!

The sooner he started CPR the better chance she had, but first he had to get her out of the water. Time no longer his friend, he only had a few minutes to get her breathing again and start chest compression's or she’d have brain damage. Cardiac arrest would happen next.

He screamed in frustration.

How could he have let this happen? Why hadn't he gotten in the water with her? She’d have been safe if he'd just gotten in the damn water with her.

Flipping back over, he swam diagonal to shore, dragging her behind him. Finally, he managed to get free of the tide, and he swam hard toward the shore, towing her with him.

As soon as his feet hit the sand, he lifted her out of the water. Carrying her lifeless body, he made it back to the blanket, and he laid her on the blanket in the sand. Flipping her on her side, he cleared water from her mouth.

Rolling her to her back, he checked for a pulse and found nothing.

"Come on, Felicity. Help me."

He started chest compressions, placing his large hands between her breasts and pressing while he counted to 30, then he tilted her head, pinched her nose and gave four short breathes and watched her chest rise. Good at least her airway was clear.

Grabbing her phone, he dialed 911 and put it on speaker phone and threw it in the sand beside him.

"911, what’s your emergency?" A strong woman's voice came on the line.

"Drowning victim. I need an ambulance NOW."

He did thirty more compressions. Stopped and checked for a pulse and found nothing.

"Your address?"

Terror ripped through him. "I don't know the address. On the beach near our rental. Vacationing. I don't live here."

He pinched her nose and blew four more breathes.

"Can you start CPR?"

"I’M doing it now." He knew she could probably hear the almost panic in his voice but he didn't care.

"What's your name?"

"Oliver Queen."

"Okay, Oliver, what color's your rental? Which direction from town? I can't help you if I don't know where you are."

More compressions, more breathes, and he checked for a pulse. "West of your town, not far from the small town. Tiny place, white with blue shutters. Right on the water. Come on Felicity, breathe for me."

"Long driveway or short?"

"Short."

"Is the mailbox yellow?"

It seemed like a foolish question but he answered, "No, silver. Fight, Felicity! Don't you dare leave me."

More compressions, four more breathes and still no pulse. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. She couldn’t die. He’d be alone, lost without her.

"Is it a one bedroom or two?"

"What?" He did compressions again.

"The rent house is it one or two bedroom?"

"One."

"In the air or on the ground?"

"The ground. Felicity, breathe, come on, you can breathe for me."

"Ambulance is in route. You're in the old Anderson place."

"Thank you. I hear them in the distance. Whoever you are, thank you."

"Mae, my name’s Mae. Don't stop the CPR. I'll stay with you until they arrive."

Four breathes, and thirty chest compressions and no pulse.

"How long was she under? How many minutes?"

"Less than two. Not long enough to kill her if she'll just breathe. Fight, Felicity, damn it, come back to me." Four more breaths. She was running out of time but still he did CPR.

His chest contracted, and he tasted real fear. She wasn't coming back. No, she was going to die and leave him alone. He would die without her, and he’d insure it this time. "Fight, Felicity, breathe for me. You can do this."

"How many compressions are you doing?"

"Thirty."

"Up it to hundred, press harder, you have to get her heart started if she's going to have a chance."

“I’m going to bruise her if I press harder.”

“She’s dying. You have to her heart restarted. Now do it.”

He changed up the compressions, knowing he bruised her now and there was still nothing, no sign of life.

His body weakening, his arms trembling as his muscles started to fail, he kept going. Her blue lips and pale her skin hadn’t changed, nothing had changed.

“Ninety-nine, 100.” He blew into her mouth, and she gagged and came up puking water.

"YES! Turn her on her side," The woman on the phone demanded. "Help her clear the water."

"That's it, Felicity, get it out."

Spiting and sputtering, she coughed up water. "Oliver?"

"Shh, I'm right here. You're okay. We're okay now. Just breathe. That’s it, breathe."

"Aw. . . My chest hurts . . . bad. Like an elephant is sitting on it."

"I know. I've drowned before. It hurts a lot."

"When did you drown?"

"Shh, I've tell you later. Focus on breathing right now. That's it. Stay with me. Breathe."

Help arrived and the two men forced him back and began working on her. His fingers trembled when he picked up the phone. "Thank you for helping me, for helping us. What did you say your name was again?"

"Mae, my name’s Mae. And no problem, I hope your wife is fine. Good work. She would have died without you doing CPR. Make sure she goes to the hospital to be checked out."

The words washed over him. "She's not my wife but she should be. Thank you again, Mae." He hung up and reached and grabbed his t-shirt. He’d noticed the looks the EMT’s were giving his chest and back.

"But, Oliver, I don't want to go to the hospital."

"Hospital. No arguing."

The EMT’s loaded her in the ambulance.

"You never go to the hospital. I’m okay now. I promise."

"If I drown again, I'll go. I promise. Now, I'll be right behind you."

"Oliver, did you get my glasses?"

"I'll get them, now be a good patient, and I'll see you in a little while."

#####OQ#####

He gathered their stuff from the sand, not even stopping to change, and was following the ambulance back to town. Cradling her glasses in his large hand, he totally freaked out when he realized they'd flipped the sirens on and now raced away from him. His breath froze in his chest.

What the hell had happened?

She'd been fine mere minutes ago.

By the time he'd abandoned the car in front of the ER's doors and rushed into the building, Felicity was in cardiac arrest, and it took three nurses to force him out of her room, holding him back from reaching her.

"You can't be in here. You have to let us work."

Almost the same words the doctor had uttered when Thea had been bleeding to death. He shook with cold now as he stood with his back against the wall. Wrapping his arms around himself, he watched them charge the paddles and hit her with the charge. Her body jumped and his heart contracted.

He flashed back to Thea dying again, only this time it was Felicity dying on him. His very world dying right in front of his eyes. A nurse bagged her, while another injected her with something, and he could see the flat line on the screen through the door.

The rest of the world faded away and time slowed to a crawl. Everything he wanted was slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers.

No, no, NO, his brain screamed.

Fight, Felicity, fight.

Stay with me, please stay with me. His right hand covered his mouth to stop the scream of rage threatening to escape. The doctor barked orders, and a nurse brought another crash cart.

"Clear!" The doctor hit Felicity with the paddles again. 

Nothing.

Still a flat line.

"One more and I'm calling time of death."

No, you will not, he thought. He’d put her on life support and take her to the pit just like Thea. Maybe it would save her and not change her. And he’d do whatever Merlyn wanted to see that she lived. He’d rejoin the league if needed and do whatever had to be done.

A small grey haired women swept past him and burst into the room.

"This the drowning?”

 “Yeah, she was arresting when she came in.”

The woman commanded them like a leader, shouting medical orders and people moved.

“She's, no doubt, sucked sea water into her lungs and osmosis is pulling water from the bloodstream into her lungs. It's the salt that's the problem." The nurse handed the woman a needle and she injected the drug into Felicity’s heart. "Her blood’s too thick and that’s overworking her heart. Now hit her again. Clear."

The flat line beeped once, and he had an instant of hope.

"Again. Clear."

This time the line beeped, hesitated and beeped again as her heart restarted, and his relief so intense, he slid down the wall and sank to the floor. He still sat there when the gray haired woman found him as she swept back out the door.

"Oliver?"

He looked up. "Yes, how did you know?"

"I'm Doc. Mae but everyone calls me Mae. Doctor’s too formal for me. I believe we talked on the phone." She extended her small hand, and he took it and pulled himself to his feet, and then, he engulfed her in his large arms, giving her a huge hug.

"Thank you. You saved her. I’d forgot about the salt thickening the blood. Of course, she went into cardiac arrest."

"More like, we saved her together, and wow, you're a big guy. You a doctor?"

Face reddening, he released her. "No. But I know certain things. Sorry, I'm . . ."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yes, you wouldn't understand how much."

"Do you drink coffee?"

"Yes."

"Well, come on, I'll buy you a cup."

"No.” He shook his head. “I need to stay here. Be close. I want her put on life support if she dies."

Mae patted his forearm. "She’s okay for now, stable, and we have a little time before she probably goes south.”

“Goes south?”

“Gets sick again.”

“Why would she get sick?” The blood roared in his ears.

“Look I gave her a blood thinner, and she probably won't code again today. But we need to watch her closely for the next couple of days."

"Two days?" His mind refused to process.

"At least, we'll have to see how it goes but trust me, you need a break right now, and the nurses won't let you in yet until they get her moved to a room. And I hear you need to move your very fancy car before Jeff, our sheriff, has it towed."

He gave one last look through the door at Felicity and nodded. "Right, give me a couple of minutes. I'll move the car, and I need to make a quick call first."

Reaching the car, he moved it and parked it in the real parking lot and picked up Felicity's phone. Swiping her screen to unlock it, he thumbed his way down to John's number and giving a huge sigh, with a hand that shook, he completed the call.

"Hey, Felicity, what's up." John's strong voice spoke in his ear.

He shut his eyes to control the pain in his chest. "John, please, don't hang up on me."

"Why shouldn't I, Oliver? Give me one good reason." John's voice held darkness.

"Felicity's in the hospital. And I . . ." his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "I don't know if she’ll be all right or not."

"Oliver, what the hell happened?"

"I let her drown." His voice cracked again but he pushed on, "I let her die, but they managed to restart her heart."

#####OQ######

Thoughts? Review? Love to hear them.

And thanks for the read.

 


	4. Felicity Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity tries to recover from drowning. Oliver tries to cope with his guilt.

Chapter 4

#####OQ#####

John's voice exploded in his ear and he pulled the phone away but still heard the words. "How the hell could you let Felicity drown?”

“I . . . didn’t mean.”

“You, Oliver? YOU who has OCD and is obsessed with keeping her safe? How could this happen.”

“I know.”

“Where’s the man who’s supposed to be watching out for her, keeping her out of harm's way. And her heart stopped too? Man, what the hell are you doing out there? Talk to me."

He literally cringed from John's tone and words. "I know. Don't you think I don't know it's my fault?"

"Sounds like you more than messed up this time. Damn it. What are the doctors saying?"

"Doctor. She says at least a couple of days in the hospital. It happened too fast. I tried . . . I tried hard. The instant I knew she'd gotten into trouble I swam to help her. But I couldn't there fast enough, and the tide pulled her under. I failed her, John. I. . . don't know what else to say. I . . . don’t have the words."

“Look,” his friend sharply interrupted him, "call me when you know something. I can't talk to you right now. Man, am I mad at you. Better yet, do me a favor?”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Don’t call me. I’ll call you."

Abruptly, John Diggle severed the connection leaving him alone with a pain in his chest.

Closing his eyes, he shivered, freezing cold inside and out as he stood in the parking lot, with a phone in his hand, adrift without anyone. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and exhaled and squared his shoulders.

For years, he’d depended only on himself, so why now did he feel alone?

Tapping his finger on the phone’s screen, he thought all these years now he’d had John and Felicity standing with him and he’d depended on them, gotten used to having them beside him.

No, he hadn’t been alone for a long time, except during his time with Ra’s. He shut that thought off cold and thought about calling Thea, but he couldn't.

What if she blamed him too?

John blamed him.

But then her drowning was his fault.

Wasn’t it?

If he’d warned her about the tides, or if he’d gotten in the damn water with her she’d be safe.

He pocketed his phone.

Cracking his neck, he straightened his stance and walked back in the ER's entrance, wanting to run the other way. The idea held appeal, but he needed to talk to the doctor so he walked down the hall and took the lukewarm coffee from Mae's hand and followed her into a conference room.

He didn’t sit and neither did her doctor.

Taking a small sip of coffee, he fought the urge to spit the nasty sludge back into the cup.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad but at least the cup’s warm, and you look cold.” The older woman twisted her wedding ring and seemed far away for an instant.

“I’ll survive.” He sat the coffee on a nearby table, denying himself the warmth and insuring he didn’t drink the sewage.

"I have no doubt. Tell me, Oliver, where did you learned your CPR training?”

“A class in college.”

A lie but she’d never know the difference.

“Well, I'm amazed how long you did CPR. It tires most people rather quickly, which is why it’s better to have more than one person to swap out with when you’re in a drowning situation. Your Felicity’s a lucky woman that you're a strong man. What’s your story by the way?"

"Not much to tell." His stomach tightened, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his chin.

Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve heard you have knife scars that say differently."

His Arrow voice came out, dark and intimidate. "That’s none of your business and how dare you ask me that?"

Yet, his tone didn’t faze her at all. Instead, she placed a hand on her hip and gave a wave her hand. "It’s easy. I’m old.”

“But didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“My mother died having me.”

Talk about putting his foot in his mouth.

Mae added. “I never met her. But she must have been something else, since my father mourned her the rest of his life and never remarried. Instead, he worked every day as the chief resident of this hospital and back then he did home visits too.”

“Sounds like he worked hard.”

“Yeah, but he worked himself into an early grave. And he let everyone around have a hand in raising me, from his office staff to the housekeeper of the week.”

A spot on the wall became interesting, as he remembered how close he’d been to their housekeeper, Raisa.  

“Oliver, I became a doctor when women stayed home and raised children or if they entered the medical field they became nurses. I chose a hard path,and I learned quickly to not care what other people think about me. Though, I’ll let you in on something that’s not a secret, I’ve never cared what people thought or have ever known my place.”

She made air quotes, reminding him of Felicity, and he choked and had a coughing fit, trying not to laugh.  

“Hence, how I survived in the medical field. And believe me it’s still a man’s world. Welcome to small town, USA, Oliver. People talk. They’re bored to tears and gossip makes the world go round and all that."

Barking a laugh, he shook his head. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. But I don’t want to talk about my scars.”

“But you have them and they came from somewhere. The question is where?”

His mouth dry, he reached for the nasty coffee again but caught himself before he drank.

Giving her a dark look, he watched as she held up her hands. "Relax, remember you had your shirt off when the EMT's arrived. Those men have eyes you know and told me you’ve got some massive scarring, knife wounds and third degree or deeper burns on your back, and knife and bullet wounds on your chest. Do you expect honestly thing people are not to notice?"

“I . . .” he swallowed hard. “It’s none of your or anyone’s business where I got my scars. I don’t talk about my scars.”

"Scars are nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people have scars, especially people who’ve served our country.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” If anything, he felt numb as he pushed his rushing emotions away, shut them down, like he normally did.

Mae cocked her head to the side. “Whatever. Are you Special Forces? Navy seal? Or CIA? Marines, perhaps?"

"If I told you, I’d have to kill you." He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.

"Funny, young man, very funny."

"I'm not joking." His voice flat and serious, he added, "And I'm not young. Not anymore and not for a long time. But I want to talk about Felicity. How long will she need to stay? It won’t be long right? She’s going to be alright?"

The old woman stared deep into his eyes, and if took all he had not to flinch under her knowing gaze.

Mae’s eyes burned with something that made him uncomfortable in his own skin and made him wonder if this elderly woman could somehow see inside him, could see past his mask, and could see the monster who lived and thrived deep inside him.

She held his eyes and he shivered and his fingers twitched.

And he looked away.

Her voice hard, she looked him up and down. “You are a mystery, Oliver. Twenty minutes ago you hugged me with gusto. You were thankful she’d pulled though, and now you’ve got murder in your cold, dead eyes. Lord, I’ve seen eyes like yours before.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say that you’ve stared at the devil and spit in his face. You’re such a hard one, aren’t you? Yet, she’s the key, isn’t she? The one you are in love with. ”

His stomach dropped, and he looked away, but he nodded.

 Jesus, what was wrong with him?

He easily stared heartless murders down, and now, he found he couldn’t look into the eyes of one old woman for less than one minute.

Rubbing his face, he recognized he had to be exhausted to let his emotions run this freely.

Mae’s lips moved, and he wondered what he’d missed while he’d checked out.

“. . . if she’s lucky, and a lot longer if things go south. If that happens . . ." She shook her gray head and shrugged.

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“Long and short, she’s going to get very sick. That cut and dry enough for you?”

He blinked several times trying to process.

His hand fisted tightly, and he splashed lukewarm coffee down the front of his chest and down his arm, as he crushed the forgotten coffee cup in his hand.

“Oh, here let me get you some Kleenex to clean up.”

“It’s nothing. Forget it. Felicity’s what’s important here.” His brain shorted out. Running on auto-pilot now, he wiped the dark liquid down the front of his shirt and dropped the cup with a splash into a nearby trashcan.

“Explain how you know this.” He growled, the Arrow coming out in him.

"Thirty years of working drownings in a tourist town give me a little insight.”

“Go on.” He nodded.

“Most of time the people who drown are lucky and don’t get wet lung. Unfortunately, your Felicity’s got a good chance of getting wet lung."

"Trust Felicity to be special.

"Yeah. Well believe it or not, she is  _special_  because most people die in the water, and stay that way, since they don’t have you to get them breathing again. Most of them never make it to the ER. And they don’t live to arrest.”

“But she did.”

“Yeah, she did because you did CPR long enough to get her heart started again, which is amazing. But then, she arrested because she sucked salt water into her lungs, which thickened her blood. This means, we know she has salt water in her lungs. There’s no changing that.”

The women hesitated, and he nodded, even though he found breathing hard the more she explained, since none of this sounded good.

His mind scrambled.

Felicity could not be sick.

NO.

She’s young and healthy. Not sick but healthy. He had to be dreaming.

Wake up, he told himself. Just, wake the hell up.

But he wasn’t sleeping.

“Now the question is how much water did she suck in? We suctioned her lungs out but got very little water out and that doesn’t . . . how can I say this?"

"Just go on and don't sugar coat it."

"Think you can take the bitter truth? Okay?"

She eyed him, and he met her stare, this time with hard eyes, as he forced total emotional shut down. Bracing, he’d handle whatever she told him, even if the news turned out to be bad.

"Felicity’s lungs will fill up from inhaling salt water, and she’ll fail quickly. It will be bad, but she'll start drowning again. Only this time it will be in her own fluids. Pneumonia will set in, and I’ll warn you now that it’s never pretty to watch. Her oxygen levels will begin to fall, and she'll slowly get confused and disoriented."

He shut his eyes to take the pain racking him.

"After that happens, she'll truly get sick.”

“Like she wasn’t sick before?”

“Not like she will be. Her lungs will fail first, and she won’t be able to get enough air, and then one by one her major organs will shut down. And her heart will well. She’s go into congestive heart failure and finally, she’ll arrest again. And, if we aren’t careful, she probably die because even if we can get her heart restarted, her lungs won't be able to keep up."

The pain in his chest ripped through him.

Opening his eyes, he held up his hand. "Enough, I get the picture. What can you do to stop this, to help her?"

She grimaced, shrugged and shook her head.

"I don’t know if she’ll live. But I’ll do everything I can and nothing all at the same time. I have meds I can give her that might help, but the salt's already pulling the fluid into her lungs.”

“Can’t you stop it? Help her get rid of the fluids? Stop her from drowning.”

“NO! It's too late. I can't stop the salt. And I think you should get used to the idea that she'll end up on a respirator before this is over."

"A respirator?" Images of Thea dying filled his mind, and he wanted to scream out his fury.

"Yes, she'll need help getting enough oxygen to keep her heart working and her lungs won't be able to do it on their own. Normally, I would airlift her straight out of here.”

“To where?”

“Dallas or Houston.”

“Would it increase her chances?”

“No, probably decrease them.”

“Then why would you airlift her?”

Her face turned hard, and she ducked her head. ”You want the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“So, she won’t die on my watch, hurt my numbers and raise my insurance if you sue.”

He blinked several times, his brain refusing to work, to process what she’d said before it finally engaged and he managed to say, “That’s harsh.”

“Life’s harsh and this is a small town. My grandfather built this hospital. My father loved this hospital more than he loved me, and this is my watch and I’ll protect hospital the best I can. But trust me, nothing’s going to happen to this hospital on my watch. It’s nothing personal, Oliver.”

“Feels pretty personal to me right now. Don’t let her die.”

“It’s not and I said normally. Plus I don’t plan to, and I’ve already decided that since she has you, I'm going to keep her here."”

"Why would I make a difference?"

The older woman looked him straight in the eye with the piercing look the older woman possessed in spades. "Because I like you. Okay, Oliver, I know I don't know you, but if I airlift her, she’ll be six hours away. By the time you drive there and convince them, bully them, or threaten them." She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. "I get that you will do whatever it takes to get you in the door. I understand that, even if she isn't married to you that you'll figure a way in that door because you love her."

"You're right. I will." And he held her eye, not shamed that he loved her.

"But by then she'll be in critical care, and they’ll let you see her maybe once an hour for a few minutes. It’s not enough. Mainly, she'll be alone and that's never good for someone who's very sick.”

“I want to be with her.”

“I know that and you should. So, me, I'm going to let you stay with her as long as you want because I think it'll help her in the long run to have you around."

"I don't understand."

"Love's a strong emotion, Oliver, maybe the strongest, I've ever seen. I've seen people pull through to stay with someone they love. People that should have died but they had the will to stay. And I know she loves you and you love her, so you will help her stay."

"How would you know that?" His gruff voice had an edge to it.

"From your 911 call. I stayed on that phone with you while you begged her to come back to you, while you did CPR for longer than any person I've ever known. Hell, you upped the number of compressions after you had to be exhausted. Why? I’ve thought about it and it was because you weren't going to let her die if you could save her. She wasn’t dying on your watch, so to speak."

He couldn't look in her eyes anymore, no, he looked away and his eyes watered.

"And she said your name first when she came back from the dead. She didn’t ask 'what happened or where am I?' No, she said your name, Oliver, and I'm hoping she loves you enough to fight to stay with you, since I want to watch your romance unfold."

He cleared his throat before he could say, "Me too because I don't want her to die.  I need her. what can I do to help?"

She hesitated then nodded her head. "Be there for her. Hold her hand. Talk to her.”

“I talk to her all the time.”

“Good, but this is going to be the worse time either of you have ever been through and you need to give her a reason to stay here when it gets bad and she wants to give up, and, Oliver, it’s going to get bad.”

“No.”

“Yes. She’s going to have trouble breathing and her body’s going to fail. You don’t understand that she’s going to want to go. What are you going to do when she can't breathe and wants to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to have to be strong and force her to stay. And we’re going to do what has to be done to get her and you through this. She's young and could survive. Now, I need you to get her to sign a power of attorney form.”

“Form?”

“Yeah, you're not her husband, which means you have NO rights unless she gives them to you." Mae turned and threw the words "and get her to sign a living will, just in case, she needs it. By the way, you need to go admit her and go home and get some clothes on, we keep it cold here."

And he wrapped him arms around his chest as he headed toward the ER.

#####OQ#####

"Date of birth?"

"I don't know."

How stupid could he be?

How did he NOT know her birthday?

He'd known her for three years. Lived in her pocket for three years, and he didn’t know her birthday. Talk about making him feel thoughtless. How could he know so little about her?

"Next of kin?" The woman gave him a small smile and his stomach fell.

"Me." He gave them his personal info, as he grasped his knees to stop his hands from twitching.

"Married, single, divorced?"

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked him over.

"Mine," came to his mind but unfortunately that word wasn't an option.

"Single." He needed to change that.

Jesus, he didn't want her single. She belonged to him.

His, he thought.

But his mind put the brakes on those thoughts.

"Insurance?"

Again, he didn't know the answer.

"Maybe? You'll have to ask her."

"Address?"

He gave the woman the old lair's address.

Finally, the woman released him, done with her questions, and he was glad to leave, after she handed him the forms Felicity needed to sign about the power of attorney and her living will, though the living will didn't matter.

He would never take her off life support. Ever!

#####OQ#####

Driving back to the rental, he threw on the pants he'd worn earlier.

Changing his shirt, he found his jacket and his cell phone. Grabbing her tablet and charger, he found her large purse and added both their phone chargers to the pile, along with a change of clothes for her.

Locking the door behind him, he stuck the house key in his front pocket and brushed a small object in his pocket.

Pulling the object out of his pocket, he came up with her red hair tie.

The very one he'd taken from her hair while they had been making out on the porch, only this morning.

Could it be only this morning? It seemed a long while ago now>

It seemed days, no weeks or maybe years.

He'd forgotten the hair tie for at the time since he'd been on fire for her, but now he remembered vividly.

Gone, she'd almost been gone and he’d not even know. He'd almost let her die.

She could still die.

He couldn't breathe, and he struggled to inhale.

Sweat popped out on his forehead and he realized that he couldn't do this.

He thought he could but he couldn't. He couldn't be with her because this living together was too hard. She had to go home.

He had to take her back to Starling City. She was never going to be safe with him, ever. This was his fault.

It didn't matter what he wanted, her safety had to come first. He’d let her go and this time he wouldn't be weak and selfish.

No, he’d walk away from her. He’d walk away from her as soon as she got well enough for him to take home.

His chest tightened the thought of let her go. His breath came in short gasps, as he fell to his knees into the sand, and he punched the sand over and over again.

The helplessness of his situation overpowered him, burning him from the inside. Over and over, he punched until his knuckles bled, until his shoulder muscles screamed, and when he couldn't punch C

ollapsing in the sand, he fell to his knees.

Jesus, he needed her to live. Flashes of her smile, her laugh filled his head. He didn't want to walk away. No, God help him, he wanted her, and he desperately wanted to stay. Why couldn't he be happy for an instant? Why did something or someone one have to come and rob him of his happiness every single blasted time? Why take her from him? Hadn't he paid for the sins he'd committed? Would he ever stop paying for his wrongs?

His phone rang. Hands stinging, burning with sand ground in them, his knuckles, a raw bloody mess, he forced himself to pull his phone from his pocket and saw it was John and answered.

"Oliver, how is she?" John growled the words at him.

He swallowed hard. "She's in critical care. The doctor expects her to get really bad in the next week. She sucked salt water into her lungs. I expect her to get bad, really bad." He could barely say the words, "drown in her own fluids and maybe die."

"Man, I swear, Oliver, if she lives you had better not run on her. I swear if you run, this time I will hunt you down."

"I'm not running this time." He didn't know if he meant the word but he said them anyway.

"Stop lying, Oliver, remember I know what an emotional cripple you are. You're a runner. As soon as anyone gets close you run. Right now you're planning to bring her back and run and leave me to pick up the pieces. Admit it."

John knew him too well. Yes, he wanted to run but where would he be without her? He would be alone, terribly alone.

"And I'm NOT dealing with Felicity's broken heart again this time. You run and I will hunt you down. I mean it, Oliver. There won't be a place you can hide from me."

"John, I promise I'm not run this time. I'm going to stand."

"You better, Oliver. Jesus, I'm angry with you for not keeping her safe. She'd better not die. Keep me posted." And John hung up on him again.

On the sand by his feet lay her hair tie. Leaning down, he picked it up and placed it back in his pocket, then found the house key and unlocked the door and went to clean up his bloody hands. She'd be angry at him for hurting his hands. He signed deeply, disgusted with himself.

#####OQ#####

She woke up wearing a full oxygen mask over her nose and mouth to find Oliver slumped in the chair beside her. He sat silently rolling a red hair tie between his fingers, and when he saw she was awake he sat up straight, and the hair tie disappeared. She smiled because she knew it was hers.

"Oliver? What happened?" Where her first words, as she watched him unfold his large body from the tiny chair beside her bed.

"You got in the riptide and you drowned."

"What I know is I drowned and you saved me."

"Yes."

The word came out quietly enough, she wasn't sure he'd said it, and she could tell he didn't believe that he'd saved her, and he blamed himself.

"Oliver, are you, alright?"

He pressed his lips together tightly for an instant. "You sucked sea water into your lungs and your heart stopped. Now you're probably going to get pneumonia. You could be really sick for little while."

His tone even and rehearsed and rather scary, like he'd practiced his little speech. She'd heard that tone of his before. It was the 'I have made up my mind and you're not going to change it tone.' The tone he used when he martyred himself, when he chose to step away from her.

"Oliver, look at me. This isn't your fault. I panicked and before I knew it the water drug me down and . . . I." Her voice trailed off. She really didn't want to talk about drowning. It'd been terrifying and painful and her chest still hurt.

She held out her hand, and when he reached she saw the bandages. "What have you done to your hands? What did you hit?"

Instantly, he pulled his hands back, and then he turned his head, set his jaw and refused to answer her.

"Honestly, let me see what you have done."

He stood, and she could tell by his body language that he was angry, really angry, probably at himself. She sighed. Loving him could be hard sometimes.

"Felicity, my hands are fine. Okay, I'll admit it. I beat my hands up, and then I bandaged them up. They'll heal. It's you I am worried about." His hands were fisted now and his words sharp. "Felicity, this isn't over. The salt water in your lungs has already stopped your heart, and the doctor thinks you're going to get really sick. She thinks your lungs may fail and you could die."

"Well. then I get a dip in the magic hot tub. Right?"

"That's not funny. Not even a little bit."

"Okay, well, maybe I won't get sick. Maybe the doctor is wrong. But people get sick. It's part of living life and part of growing old. But look, I'm strong. Trust me, I'll live."

"You can't guarantee that." His words had become quiet, marked, again with that tone back in his voice.

"Don't you dare shut down on me, now of all times. I see what you're doing. Standing there blaming yourself, brooding. Look at me, Oliver. I know what you're thinking. That this is your fault somehow. That you should have been able to save me before I drowned. Let me take this stupid mask off. I feel like it is suffocating me."

His head snapped up. "NO, leave it on. It's your lungs and not the mask that are making it hard to breathe. And YES! I should have warned you about the rip tide. I should have told you what to do, not let you get in the water by yourself. This is my fault."

"Stop it, Oliver. Stop blaming yourself. I had an accident. Stop stepping back from me. Stop running away from me. I see exactly what you're doing. You're overwhelmed, so you're shutting down. I get that emotion is hard for you, but you're the one who's drowning right now because you can't control what's happening."

His face became hard, and he set his jaw, with his mouth in a frown.

"Oliver, you may be standing a few feet away but you're miles away from me. Look at me. Would you please look at me."

He looked and she reached for him again, and this time, he took her hand.

"I love you, Oliver. You. No matter what. And by the way, we will get through this together. But you have to promise me that you won't beat your hands up again. I need your hands to touch me, to protect me." She stopped and smiled at him. "I get that you need the emotional release, well then run, swim, find a gym but don't beat your hands up again. Not for me. Okay?" She pulled him toward her. "Do it. Promise me right now or I will take this mask off."

"Alright, I promise. I won't do it again. But you have to get better, Felicity. Please, get better. Don't leave me alone." Then he pulled her into his arms and held her like he'd never let her go again.

#####OQ#####

He started with hope, a foolish emotion he didn't believe in, but he started with it anyway. For almost one full day she did fine.

Mae had given them a deck of playing cards, and Felicity had beaten him in every card game they played. He knew she was smart and from Vegas, but heavens, she was really good at cards.

It was almost ironic that his descent into his own personal hell began with a small cough.

Something tiny, so itty bitty, he didn't even really notice it in the beginning. They were playing cards, and she won, again and again, but then she coughed and gagged a little bit.

"You okay?"

"Fine, it's your turn."

But she wasn't fine.

No, as the hours pasted, he noted he could hear her, as she breathed. She wheezed, even with the full oxygen mask on 100 percent. As time pasted, he noted, during their card game called Speed, he beat her easily, too easily.

"Did you let me win?"

"Of course, not. Why would I? I have finally found something you're not good at. I should record it with my phone, and show John. He'd love to watch me beat you at something."

Glancing down, he noted her fingernails were turning blue, a sure sign she wasn't getting enough oxygen.

"Felicity, where are your oxygen levels," he asked casually, as he eyed the monitor and noted she was down in the mid 80's. Not wanting to panic, he reached and pushed the nurse's button.

"Problems?" A female voice questioned.

"Yes, her oxygen level's falling."

"I'll call, Mae."

Mae arrived with a frown. "Your lungs are filling up. Let's get an x-ray. I'll order it."

"Really, I'm fine. I'm just getting tired. I think I'll take a nap."

But she wasn't fine. And a little while later, she woke up drowning, gasping, struggling to breathe and there was nothing he could do to help her. Instead, the crash cart arrived, and the nurses pushed him out of the room because he was freaking out and screaming her name.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read.

 


	5. Can I just catch my breathe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read it if you want to know. No. Spoilers. Please feel free to comment. Thanks for the read.

#####OQ#####

Mae frowned deeply at him, while she tapped her small foot and shook her head once she walked out of Felicity's room. "You need to get control of yourself right now young man."

With his hands in his pockets, Oliver fingered her hair tie and it helped calm him. His own anger burned his gut. He was angry he'd lost control, angry that Felicity was sick, angry at the damn world, and he ached to hit something, hit something hard, to work his muscles until he was numb again. He needed to be numb again. And only his promise to her, kept his still bandaged hands from repeatedly punching the wall behind him.

He found his emotions overpowered him, making him act nothing like himself. For years, he'd survived by shut his emotions off, kept them walled off, kept the hurt away, and kept himself numb, but he couldn't achieve it with Felicity being sick. She had crept into his heart and forced him to feel such happiness and now such pain.

"I'm fine. The question is how is she?" His tone was desperate, but he couldn't help it.

"She's better now than you are right now. It was a spell and it was nothing a breathing treatment didn't help. But you're going to have to do a better job of holding it together. This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.  And if you panic then she will too. So don't make me throw you out because I will."

"Don't be sure you could." He couldn't keep the dark edge out of his voice.

She raised an eyebrow at him and looked at him like he was a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Alright, I lost it in there and believe me, normally I never panic, but you don't know how hard the last few months have been on me." He scrubbed his face with his hands before he added, "I don't know what's wrong with me? I'll do better. I promise. But I need you to tell me how to help her. when she can't breath."

"Staying calm is the first step for both of you. You need to get her to focus. Sit her up. Get her to think about breathing. She needs to inhale slowly through her nose and push out through her mouth, like she is trying to whistle. Help her slow down and breathe. If both of you panic, she could die. Do you understand me? I'll also have the respiratory therapist talk to both of you."

"Yes, I understand, and I won't let it happen again."

"Good, because if you don't calm down you're never going to survive this. Both of you aren't going to survive this."

"You'd be surprised what I can survive."

"I'm sure that is true, but for now you need to throttle back, Oliver, which means for the next six hours you're banned from her room."

"Banned? You can't do that." His voice cracked.

"I can and I have. You're past exhausted. When is the last time you slept? Really slept?"

He looked away from her, his heart pounding. "I'm fine. I'll catch a nap in a little while."

"NO, You're not fine. You look like hell. Now I want you to go home, sleep, eat and take a shower. Not necessary in that order."

"No. Please, I want to stay here with her."

"Look, I gave her something to help her rest and her fever's still low grade. She's still holding on pretty well. She won't even know you're gone. Go home. I have them call your cell, if something happens."

"But?"

"But nothing. Banned." Her tone flat and harsh. "Come back in six hours. No sooner. Go. Rest. Eat. Shower."

"But?"

"Argue and I'll make it eight hours. Now go!"

He felt like his mother had sent him to his room, as she waved him away, then she turned and walked away from him, leaving him no choice but to leave. On the way to the parking lot, he got a text from Thea asking him what was happening, and he forced himself to finally make the call to his sister and to try to explain, to not lie to her and tell her that everything was fine, when it wasn't fine at all, not at all.

#####OQ#####

He felt better after he talked to Thea. His sister had told him it wasn't his fault and not to blame himself, and even if he didn't believe her, he still felt better because she'd said the words. She'd offered to come be with him, but he'd refused. No, he didn't want her here. He didn't want her or anyone to see how out of control he was, for he was lost.

So he drove back to the rental, and Oliver did what Mae said, or he tried to do what she said. He ate part of a sandwich and an apple. He drank some juice, though before he took that first drink, he found himself looking at the glass and wondering if she'd drank out of the carton already. Shaking his head, with a slight smile, he lifted his glass in a small toast to her spit and then drank the juice anyway. 

 Maybe they could buy two cartons? Hmm.

A his and hers kind of thing.

Stripping, he took a quick very hot shower. He was still cold, really cold inside and out. Dressing in boxers, he fell into a bed that smelled like her and his heart ached in his chest, as he pulled her pillow into his arms, breathed her scent in and forced himself to close his eyes, forced himself to STOP THINKING. He was tired, exhausted, and almost dead on his feet and knew he needed to recharge.

#####OQ#####

Strong hands held him under the frigid water, trapping him. Fighting the men that held him, his right eye was swelled shut, he could barely see even when they pulled him above the water. His arms were chained behind him and his wrists were slick with his blood, injured from trying to escape his tormentors and his bonds. His head was pushed under again, and he struggled not to breathe. Then someone punched him hard in the kidney, and he sucked the cold water in, swallowing hard, choking.

Jerking him out of the water, a large man slapped him repeatedly, while he was blind and he was gagging from the water.

He vomited water, choking.

"You'll tell me. Now."

"I don't know." He screamed at them. If he could get lose, he thought, I'll kill you all.

He grabbed a breath of air, as the hard hands plunged him under the cold water again. Holding him under for long enough to almost kill him, the men waited until he was desperate for air before they dragged him out of the water. He couldn't take much more, but he couldn't make them stop.

Then they plunged his head back under again and again. Fighting them, he panicked, for he knew he was drowning again.

Lungs burning, pain screaming in his chest, he was in misery, as his head pounded from the carbon dioxide building up in his blood stream. He was drowning and dying. Panic engulfed him as he couldn't hold his breath anymore, as the strong hands held him down, and he sucked the water into his lungs.

The torture had continued for a long time now, he'd broken and told them everything, and still, they held him under the water. He was broken now, lost, and he begged them to stop, begged them to not put him under again, but they didn't stop. 

And he couldn't make them stop. Then everything went black.

Puking water, gagging, he was awake again vomiting, retching violently, sick from swallowing the water. They'd revived him again, hit him with the defibrillator, and they'd hit him with it when he was awake for good measure. 

Jesus, he felt like a he'd been kicked in the chest, but before he could truly breathe, barely think, he was under the water again. The solid hands wouldn't release him. They trapped him, imprisoned him beneath the water, drowning him in the cold water.

No, his mind screamed, as he fought his body again to not inhale the water, to not breath, and to not swallow the water. The pain in his chest, in his head, was intense, and he begged to die. He was ready to die. He ached to die. Now he begged them to please let let me die. Please hold him under and let it be over. But the hands pulled him out and then pushed him under the dark water again and over again.

Then shocked him alive again to begin again.

Sweating buckets, he violently jerked awake. Screaming, gagging, and fighting the hard hands, he couldn't find now. 

For an instant, he was still trapped back in the past. He was back with the strong hands, the dark, the pain, and they were drowning him, over and over and then reviving him over and over again. 

Reality had disappeared and only his panic remained.

Stop screaming, he told himself. 

You have to stop screaming. 

Get control. 

NOW.

Physically shaking, heart pounding, chest aching from the memory, he gasped out loudly in the dark room. His stomach nauseous, he jumped from the bed, barely making it to the toilet before everything in his stomach came rushing up, and he retched like in his dream.

Finally the sickness was over, and he arose and rinsed his mouth. With hands that had a slight tremor, he brushed his teeth and then washed his face. But he turned away from the mirror. This memory was why he hadn't slept except in cat naps since he'd let her drown. He'd known her drowning would bring this terrible memory back, and there were others he didn't ever want to relive, ever. This memory was bad enough.

The guilt ate at him that he'd let something dreadful like drowning happen to her until it engulfed and sickened him. But what was worse than the guilt was the relief that flooded his mind that Felicity hadn't witnessed this nightmare, that she hadn't heard him lose total control of himself. 

How could he explain his panic? He was a man that didn't panic, but lately he couldn't control his emotions or his nightmares.

And Felicity wanted to know about his dreams, wanted him to talk to her about them. She wanted to help him work through them. But how could he tell her about what they had done to him, and then how could he tell her that he'd learned from his tormentors and then had done horrible things to others? 

He couldn't share that darkness.

How could he tell her that he'd tortured other men with water?

Lately he'd entertained thoughts about asking her to marry him. But how could he even think about marrying her with such darkness inside him? Was her drowning and now her suffering his penance for all the terrible things he'd done? 

 No, he couldn't believe that.

But what if it was true?

He  fisted his hands to stop them from shaking. The ache to hit something strong, and it almost overpowered him. He wanted to rip the room apart, wanted to beat the walls, and break the mirrors. But he'd promised not to beat his hands up again. He'd promised Felicity, and he would keep his promise, but that didn't stop the ache or push back his dark thoughts.

All of the terror, the panic of his thoughts and the dream rushed through his mind. He had to stop thinking or go insane. It had to stop. All the horror that that he'd worked hard to bury lay simmering under the surface now, haunting him, tormenting him. Panting, he put his head in his hands and tried to find some semblance of control as memories of some of his darkest days, ones he had barely survived, flooded his mind.

Turning, he walked back to the bedroom where he retrieved her hair tie from his pants. Then forcing himself, he sat Indian style on the cold, hard bathroom floor and shut his eyes. He embraced the discomfort of the floor. He reached for it. He needed the discomfort right now, and in truth, he craved it.

Straightening his back, he pushed his panic back and thought about his breathing. In through his nose and out through his nose, he thought only of breathing, and he didn't think about the things that he'd done to survive or what others had done to him. 

Blank, he thought, mind blank.

Then, he pushed thoughts of Felicity being sick away. He pushed thoughts of her dying and leaving him alone away. He pushed thoughts of him letting her drown away. He pushed all of it away.

Now, he had to calm his mind now, or he would go mad. Tilting his head down, he lay his hands, palms up, on his knees. He began to roll the hair tie between his fingers slowly, and he thought about the sound of his breathing, only the sound, then he thought of the sensation of his breath and only that. Tatsu had taught him this. She'd taught him how to relax, how to clear his mind, and how to calm himself. She had understood that he needed to be able to calm himself.

He was stiff and cold when he finally felt calm enough to arise from the floor, but he was back in control. The terror, the panic was gone, but it still wasn't time to return to her.  Dressing, he went for a run on the beach and thought about his breathing, as he pushed himself until he couldn't think let alone breathe, then he pushed himself harder. Finally, he returned to the rental, hoping he was exhausted enough he could sleep for a little while before he returned to the hospital, hoping he was exhausted enough he wouldn't dream.

#####OQ####

Morning light streamed into  the window when the nurse woke Felicity yet again. Sleeping in the hospital was impossible, she thought.

A nurse named Becky was checking her vials yet again. It seemed that a nurse was always checking something, giving her something or waking her up. She knew the respiratory therapist would be here soon too. Those women tortured her every few hours day and night. And unbelievably people came to hospitals to get better. 

What a joke. 

And who knew sucking in a little salt water could cause this much trouble? They tormented her almost constantly trying to make her feel better. She suffered quietly through the nurse's checks. But she was past fatigued, and from what she'd read, she knew the exhaustion stemmed because of a lack of oxygen.

"Your blood pressure is down and your fever is up a little this morning. Mae won't be pleased. Now where's your handsome man this morning?"

"I'll not sure, but could you hand me my phone?" She pointed to the phone in the window sill. Felicity coughed and clutched her chest. Oh, how her chest hurt. She hadn't let Oliver see the huge bruise on her chest from where he'd done CPR, but it really hurt when she coughed, and her lungs, they hurt too.

"Sure, though I'm betting he will be back. You're very lucky to have someone who loves you like that." The nurse handed her the phone then went back to inputting info into her computer on wheels.

"Why would you say that he loves me?" Okay she was fishing for information, she admitted it to herself, and yes, the thought that other people could see he loved her gave her a small thrill.

Becky waved a finger at her. "Honey, he's the talk of the entire place. They are calling him Superman."

Okay, she had to smile about that one. "Well that's a new one. Why would they call him that?" What an upgrade, she thought, from the Arrow to Superman, not that she was going to share that name with him. His ego was big enough already.

"First the guy is totally ripped according to the EMT's that brought you in. And gossip says he's got a lot of scars and talk thinks the guy must be Special Forces or something?"

She knew now that Becky was fishing for information, but she had years of practice keeping Oliver's secrets. 

"Yeah, you're right. He's in great shape."

Felicity could see his wonderful body in her mind, and she smiled until she coughed again and had to spit gunk, yuck, into a tissue.

"Second, gossip says he swam out and he pulled you out of a riptide, then he did CPR on you for like forever. Longer than anyone normally can, with chest compressions. Do you know how hard that is? How strong he must be? Do you know how fast you get tired doing chest compressions, and he fought the riptide too. WOW?"

"No, I didn't know." But she wasn't surprised for if there one thing Oliver was, he was strong. He worked on being strong, and she loved watching him work out. Wow, did she love watching him work out.

"And he has barely left the building since you came in. I would love to have a man love me like that. Now you have new meds. I need you to turn over. Hip shot. Little prick now."

"Ouch, that hurt. Now I really know what a pin cushion feels like. Do people still use those? I don't think I've ever seen one in person."

"Around here, yes. Around here people still make quilts. They show them in the fair, give them as wedding gifts and at baby showers. Through sorry about the shot. Mae's orders. New antibiotic. Now try to stay sitting up. It'll help you breathe better, and the therapist will be in soon."

She coughed again, harder this time. She grabbed her phone and connected to the wireless.

The internet was terrible here but it worked. Well, kind of. Finally the page loaded, and she read about her illness, read the signs that were happening to her, and she knew she was not getting better. No, she was getting worse, much worse. She understood she was running out of time, as she sat there and thought about what she needed to do. Swiping her phone to open it, she tapped John's name and removed the oxygen mask as she put the phone to her face.

"Oliver," John growled the word.

"No, Felicity, so you can be nicer." She coughed again and spit in the tissue that now lived in her hand. How she hated this lungs filling up with the gunk thing.

"Felicity," his voice softened. "So good to hear your voice. How are you?"

"Better than you would think, considering I died a couple of days ago. But I am really getting sick, John, really sick, and Oliver is struggling with it. I need your help to deal with all of this. Oliver really needs your help right now. Plus, I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you. You know I love you, John."

"Felicity, did he really let you drown? Tell me the truth."

"How can you even asked that? No, John, of course, it wasn't his fault. I got in the riptide and should have floated. Look, I was the one that panicked. Don't you dare blame him. It wasn't his fault. But he's still blaming himself, and I'm really worried about him."

"You're always worried about him. That's your job not mine. Alright, what can I do to help you, Felicity?"

She pulled no punches. "You can stop being mean to him. He can't handle your anger right now. He is too busy beating himself up. He doesn't need your help."

"Felicity, I have every right to be angry with him. More than the right. He broke my trust. He kidnapped my wife. He left Sara alone. My baby girl, alone. How could he do that? He trusted Merlyn more than you or me. Merlyn! And now you want me to help him through letting you drown? Do you not get what you are asking here?"

"He did not let me drown. I drown myself. It was an accident. Hold on." She coughed and spit and used the oxygen mask for a second or two, then jerked it off . "I agree Oliver has made some really bad choices lately. I'm angry at him too, but, John, he's is in a lot of pain right now. We both know his coping skills suck, and he thinks my  **accident** was his fault. And he's suffering, punishing himself. I know he is punishing himself."

"Yes, Oliver is blaming himself for LETTING you drown, and I agreed with him. I told him that he is man with OCD about keeping you safe, and he let you **drown**. NO, he didn't keep you safe. And no, you wouldn't be sick right now if he would have done his job."

"Oh, John, how could you say that to him? How could you do that? You know what that would do to him. Wait. . ." She coughed and gasped in pain. After she recovered she ask, "Did you know he hurt himself, punched something, repeatedly, I'm sure. He admitted to me that he beat his hands up. I have never known him to hurt his hands on purpose. His hands could make the difference in living and dying, and we both know that. How could he hurt his hands?" She coughed again, repeatedly and then spit into a tissue. Talking was taking a lot out of her. She knew she needed to put the oxygen back on. Eyeing the machine, she watched her oxygen count fall.

"Hey, hey, Felicity.  Answer me! Are you okay?" The worry came through in his voice.

"No, John, I'm not. I'm tired. I'm sick. You need to understand that my lungs are failing. I am not getting enough oxygen. I sucked something in with that sea water that has given my lungs an infection. Hear me. My lungs are really failing. The Dr. was in a little while ago, and she said if I don't improve soon, she is going to knock me out and put me on a ventilator to help me breathe."

"Felicity, how can you be calm about this?"

"Trust me I don't want to be, but if I fall apart, Oliver'll totally lose it. John, you should have seen him yesterday when I had a breathing attack. You wouldn't have recognized him. He doesn't have it together anymore. He's standing on the edge of a breakdown."

"What Al Sah-Him has emotions?"

"Don't call him that. And yes, he's lost it. I don't know who was more panicked that I couldn't breathe, him or me? John, I really think it was him. And it only took three nurses to throw him out of the room."

"Oliver let them throw him out?"

"He left like a lamb going to the slaughter. That's why, wait." Again with the coughing thing and again she spit in to a tissue. She really hated body fluids some times.

"Damn you sound bad."

"I am. I'm drowning in my own fluid."

"You're really sick aren't you, Felicity?

"Yes, John, I am, and that why if I go on the ventilator it will be really hard on Oliver. I don't know what he might do to himself. He'll need you, need someone for support. I won't be awake to help him cope. Please, John, don't keep shutting him out. You know you are hurting him."

Nothing but silence answered her on the other end. She coughed again and groaned.

"I love you. But I have to go. It's too hard to talk. I can't breathe. I need the oxygen. And remember, I don't regret anything. Both you and him have made my life good, better than I ever thought it could be. But could you please be his friend, be my friend. I could really use your help here."

"I'm still mad at him, but I'll try for you, Felicity. I love you too. Get well, please."

"I'm trying and thanks, John and please think about what I said." And she hung up on him and replaced the oxygen mask, gasping as she tried to breathe like they had taught her, in through her nose and out her mouth, and she tried not to panic which was harder than she thought it would be.

I will survive this, she thought. I will not leave him alone. I have waited too long to have him. I will live. I WILL LIVE. But she was very tired. Unable to stand it any more, she gave up and took a nap.

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for the read and any review.

 


	6. The Truth Comes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read it. Sorry no spoilers here.

#####OQ#####

Oliver had arrived back in her room that next morning to find her sleeping, or he thought she was sleeping until she opened her eyes and ask, "Oliver, do you know how to braid?"

"Braid? You mean like hair?"

She smiled slightly at him through the oxygen mask. "Of course, I mean hair. My hair is a mess, and I thought maybe you could help me brush it out and then put it up in a braid. A braid would help keep the tangles out." She then coughed repeatedly and spit in the tissue in her hand.

"Okay, I can try."

"My brush is in my bag. Could you get it? Then could you help me get in that chair."

He retrieved the brush and then lifted her carefully, trying not to get wound up in the tubes and leads that where now a vital part of her. Slowly, he sat her in the chair beside the bed. He hated this enemy called sickness. It was an enemy, he couldn't fight, couldn't win against. He could only wait to see if it took her from him.

"You're losing weight, Felicity." He pulled her hair out of her gown.

"Best diet plan ever. Eat hospital food or rather don't eat hospital food. I should sell that idea. I would be rich." Her cough came again, and she groaned. Placed a hand on her shoulder, he steadied her, while wishing he could give her his strength.

"No, diets for you. Your weight is fine. But you need to eat more."

"You say that as long as I'm thin."

"No, I will love you, Felicity, no matter what size you are."

"Brush, Oliver. I'm getting tired already. I never knew my head was this heavy."

Slowly, he began to brush her hair. It was such a personal thing to do for her. Her hair felt good under his hands, as he slowly brushed and worked the tangles away. This was something he had never done before for any woman, ever, and somehow it seemed more intimate than even having sex. He would never forget it.

Carefully, he brushed and as he found snarls and tangles, he worked through them. It was odd, but he found the act of brushing her hair relaxing, and the repeated motion comforted him, calmed him and grounded him somehow. She didn't talk as he brushed, and he didn't either. But she did sigh for him, and she leaned in to his touch, something he absorbed like a sponge.

When the oxygen tubing got in the way of his brushing, he removed it, and she held the mask against her face with her hand while he brushed. She was quiet enough, her silence began to bother him. He had to speak.

"Are you feeling worse this morning? You are too quiet. Not like you."

"I'm tired today. The cough's worse too. I can't lay down anymore."

"I'm sorry about that. You know I miss your chatter. The way you fill the quiet for me."

"I don't have the air to babble for you today. I wish I did."

"Felicity, I love your babble. It amuses me, and we both know I need to be amused."

"You're too hard on yourself. Brush, Oliver. I can't sit here much longer."

"I want you to know that you've brightened my life with not only with your words but with your presence. I can't imagine my life without you anymore. You're going to get better. Promise me?"

"I'm trying to stay, Oliver." She reached up and caught his hand that held the brush for a moment and squeezed.

Finally done and her hair tangle free, he carefully braided the silky blonde locks, and then he realized he needed a hair tie, and he frowned at the thought of giving up the one in his pocket. It had become his worry stone, and he bit his lip/ "Felicity, do you have a hair tie?"

"I think there's one in my purse." She reached out and clasp his hand then released him. "But don't you have one in your pocket?"

Trust her to know that. He gave a small smile. She was smart as usual. "Don't you have another one? That one's mine." Reaching, he fingered her hair tie in his pocket, then removed his hand.

"Really? I'm pretty sure it started out mine."

She teased him, making him almost smile.

"Well it was, but now it's mine."

"What you don't want to share?" She answered in a light voice, but then she coughed and he cringled.

He reached and took the oxygen mask from her hand. Carefully, he adjusted the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose and then scooped her up like she was a child. Sitting down on the bed with her in his lap, he tried to hold her around all the tubes and lines she was attached too.

She settled against his chest, and he whispered. "No, I don't want to share ever. Not ever. Ray was bad enough. You don't know how hard that was on me. Believe me, I mean never, do I want to do that again. And your hair tie has been mine ever since I took it out of your hair on the porch that wonderful morning. You know you were too sexy in that bikini."

"Shame, I heard that they cut it off me."

He laughed then frowned deeply as she coughed and gagged, and he handed her several tissues so she could spit.

When she finished gasping and spitting, she laid back against his chest and he savored her. "And I want you to know that you've have been mine from the moment I first laid my eyes on you. And I want to make you mine from now on. Hey, hey, look at me, Felicity."

Her eyes found his, and he pressed his lips tightly together. "I want to ask . . . you. . . to . . ."

A small knock interrupted him and the door opened and in walked the respiratory therapist. "Back again, Felicity. Time for your treatment."

"What, Oliver?" She looked at him with a perplexed look. "What were you going to ask?"

"Nothing that can't wait." The moment totally lost now, along with his nerve.

He almost asked her to marry him and the idea suddenly terrified him. What had he been thinking? He was moving way too fast. Lifting her, he placed her on the bed, turned and handed her purse, leaving her to find find a hair tie, and he left the room.

#####OQ#####

He was reduced to holding her hand now. Never would he believe how much ground she'd lost in the last 24 hours.

The nurse had raised her bed to a 45 degree angle to make it easier for her to breathe. Her oxygen levels were always too low, and she slipped slowly away from him.

Jesus, he hated this.

Life was now an endless cycle of constant breathing treatments, suctioning her lungs, beeping machines, constant nurses giving her more meds, more shots, and more x-rays.

He'd never felt this helpless in his life, even with Thea. But then Thea had already been lost by the time he found her.

This was much different. She was very sick and he knew it.

Felicity had begun to drown in her own fluids right before his eyes, and it was excruciating to watch. His chatting, always talking, Felicity no longer had the air to talk anymore, and mainly, she napped. Now the tables had turned and as strange as it was, and now, he did most of the talking, and he told her things he never thought he would say to her.

"When you get better, we'll drive down the coast into Florida. We'll be tourists. Eat oranges, see Alligator Alley and ride the air boats. There are some awesome farmer's markets there. We can go where the pirates lived. Go see NASA. See the sights. We can camp on the ocean." He leaned over and whispered into her ear. "I ache to make love with you on the beach, under the stars. I want to do that with you. Think about that, Felicity, trust me, I have been thinking about it a lot, since before we left Starling City. You don't know how many times I've made love to you in my mind."

Her lips curled up for a moment and he went on.

"And the dresses you wore to make me crazy. I'm sure you wore them on purpose. I swear you knew how much I wanted you, and you wanted to torture me with your clothes. I got where I couldn't stand the sight of your skin. I couldn't look at your skin, because I was afraid I was going to take you right there in the lair, or in the elevator, or on the training mats. I was afraid I couldn't stop myself. You don't know the places I have thought about making love to you. I really am a bad boy, you know?"

She squeezed his hand, and she tried to smile again for him, but he could tell she was tiring again. In a few minutes she would slip away into sleep. He swallowed hard, knowing that every time she slipped away might be the last time she would truly be herself. And it terrified him.

Yes, if she died, he would somehow make a deal and put her in the pit, but he knew the pit changed people. He had already seen small changes in Thea, subtle changes but there were changes. Yes, he could save her but at what cost? What if she forgot she loved him?

No, he couldn't think like that. He had to keep trying to talk to her, trying to keep her with him.

"Then we can drive all the way to Key West, and I'll even help you drink our way across it. You know I hardly drink, but I'll make an exception just for you. You have never seen that many bars in one small town. Places like Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville, Fat Tuesday's, and the Green Parrot  Bar."

She sighed and shut her eyes.

"We'll sit and drink and people watch. The Keys have lots of shopping too. You would like that. Lots of jewelry. I'll buy you new earrings. You think I don't notice your earrings, but I do. Alright, I don't love shopping, but I would love watching you shop. I love watching you, and I always have. Did you know that I used to watch you in the lair? You would sit at your computers, and I would watch you when you weren't looking. I thought I was going to die from watching you during the last year. Watching and not touching. Wanting and not having. You drove me crazy. I'm glad I can touch you now. Touching is much better than not touching." His thumb rubbed her palm.

She gave another small pained smile behind the oxygen mask and again weakly squeezed his hand, and he knew she'd heard him.

"Oliver," Mae stuck her head in the room. "Could I speak with you?"

"Of course. Felicity, hold that thought. I'll be right back." He released her hand, but her hand lingered before she released him.

#####OQ#####

Felicity knew through the haze that was now her mind that they were going to put her to sleep, that her time awake was almost over. It was almost worth being sick, listening to Oliver admit he had watched and wanted her. Forever it seemed, she'd loved him from a far, and she loved that he had also been pining for her. And yes, in the last year, she had showed him more of her body, taunted him with her body, with her dresses. It fed her soul that he had wanted her, and yes, she had wanted him for a long time too. She wanted to sleep, but she forced herself to do what needed to be done. Her hand reached, searching for the phone that was beside her in the bed.

It took her three tries to pick up her phone and two tries to get her screen unlocked. Her eyes threatened to close. She was exhausted, but she had to do this. The text she'd written to John two days ago was in her drafts. It took her way longer than normal to find her draft's file. Finally, she opened the text she'd written back when her mind had still worked.

The text was a will of sorts and started with "I know you were getting even with Oliver for taking Lyla. You knew exactly what to say to hurt him and it worked. Okay, you wanted him in pain, and now he is. You are being mean and childish. You don't know how overwhelmed and out of control he is. He is walking a fine line here. But now it is time to make a decision. John, if you ever cared for Oliver, call him. He needs you NOW. Hoping to see you on the other side of the pit, if need be. Not LOL. I love you all. Kiss Sara for me." She carefully made her finger hit the send button and dropped the phone back to the bed.

#####OQ#####

As soon as he closed the door, Mae turned to him. "I checked her last set of x-rays and stats, and she's getting critical. Her heart's becoming oxygen deprived, causing it to swell, which is making her blood pressure drop. It's time to put her on the respirator, time to help her breathe, to give the meds time to work."

The expression he gave her held pain.

"I know you don't want that, but it time to make a choice, if we wait much longer she'll code, and I don't know if we'll get her heart restarted. I know this is your call but I know we need to sedate her now and keep her that way for a while. It will be easier on her body, easier on her."

"How long?"

"Until she either gets better or doesn't. I'm hoping she'll improve greatly, and this will only be temporary." The gray haired woman frowned. "I know this is hard, but Oliver, you need to tell her goodbye. Do it just in case. And do it now while she can still hear you." She patted him on his arm and turned and walked away.

Steeling himself, he stood in the cold hall as brain raced, as his brain screamed, "She's going to die." The sound of a cart being wheeled toward him with a machine on it forced him to gather his thoughts then he made himself walk back into her room.

Leaning down, he kissed her soft forehead. Then he took her hand and whispered, "I'm not going to say goodbye not this time, Felicity. You know I love you."

She weakly squeezed his hand and his voice cracked as he added. "They're going to put you to sleep for a while, to make it easier for you to breathe. I know Mae talked to you about it. Now I need you to stay with me, to fight. I love you. I'm not going to lose you. Do you understand me? I need you to fight to stay. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise, but no matter what don't you quit fighting. Promise me this time? You always asked me to promise. Now I want you to promise."

"Yes." And she squeezed his hand again. Releasing her, he kissed her forehead again, as a nurse wheeled the ventilator into the room. Turning, he left the room before they inserted the tube down her throat.

No, he couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't watch, he would lose it if he did, he walked out. Leaving the hospital, he walked to the car and grabbed his duffel bag that contained his running shoes and clothes. He would change, then go he run until he thought his lungs would burst, until he wouldn't have to think anymore. He would push himself until he was the one that couldn't breathe, until, he was the one was gasping for air. And then he would force himself to run some more.

Running, he could control.

His phone vibrated and Dig's face popped up. He didn't know if he could handle the man's anger right now and his finger hovered over the reject button. Internally, he fought with himself, knowing he knew should tell the man about Felicity going on life support, and if he didn't share the new Dig would use it as another reason to be angry with him. Biting his lip, he hit accept.

"Oliver, how is she?"

"Failing, dying. What can I say? She is going to die! Her heart is swelling. They are putting her on the ventilator right now. I mean right NOW. What am I going to do? I'm going to have to put her into that damn pit, just like Thea. I'm losing her. " His voice rose.

"Man, calm down! I mean it. Calm down."

"How can I? I'm in a recurring nightmare. Only now, I'm going to have to make a deal with Merlyn. I'll do what ever I need to do to save her, to bring her back. But what do I have to give him? What do I have to give him to put her in the pit? Unlike Ra's, he doesn't want me to be his heir. I don't have anything to bargain with. Maybe he will do it for Thea?" His voice cracked.

"Slow down. Talk to me, Oliver. Merlyn? What the hell has Merlyn got to do with the league? With the pit? I don't understand? What have you done now?"

"I gave Merlyn the damn league. He wanted to be Ra's and I didn't. Nyssa knows I've stepped down and is supposed to get our marriage annulled, so I have no claim now. I didn't want the league. I wanted Felicity. I wanted her. And now I'm not going to have either. I never wanted the league, but now I wished I would have kept it, then I could have done what I wanted with the pit. And none of this would have happened. If I would have taken the league, but no, I tried to be happy and gave the damn league to Merlyn."

"That was his game all along wasn't it? He was helping you so you would give him the league. I knew that devil had something up his sleeve, that he wanted something. Does Felicity know about Merlyn?"

His words were low and intense, "No, but I'll tell her, but not right now. Right now she's about to go into cardiac arrest. Didn't you hear me? They're putting her on life support as we speak. Sticking a damn tube down her throat. Grrr. . .this is all my fault. If I had gotten in the water with her, I would have been right there. How stupid on my part. She invited me. Why didn't I get into the water with her? I should have gotten in the damn water."

"Oliver, breathe. Listen to me. I want you to take a step back and calm down. Felicity needs you to calm down. And I want you to calm down."

"John, I have to go. I can't talk right now."

"No."

"Bye, John, I'll call you."

"Oliver! Don't you dare hang up on me. I have something to tell you. But you need to calm down."

"I'm trying but you don't understand. I'm lost. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I can't sleep for the nightmares. I can't think because I can't sleep. I can't keep my emotions in check. I don't even know how to have emotions, and I am out of control here. Felicity's really sick and having her sick is hard, really hard. I can't think or fight my way out of her sickness and it's all my fault."

"Stop right there and listen, Oliver. I need you to hear me. I was angry when I told you Felicity's accident was your fault. I never should have told you that. You hurt me by endangering Lyla and Sara and not trusting me. I wanted to hurt you back, wanted to get even with you, and it was easy to agreed with you when you told me about Felicity's accident. Hear me, understand, I WANTED TO HURT YOU."

Shock filled him. "You wanted to hurt me? How could you want to hurt me? You're my friend, my partner. I knew you were angry but to want to hurt me. You're like my brother."

"Yes, but I'm furious with you, Oliver. You crossed a line when you endangered my family. You broke my trust. You broke Felicity's heart more than once and left me to pick up the pieces. But never have I thought that you didn't keep her safe. I lied to you, Oliver. Pay attention, I LIED."

"I told you when I took Lyla I was trying to keep you safe. Both of you. All of you. You were protecting Nyssa, and I didn't want the team to go against the league. That's why I took Lyla. I was trying to keep everyone I loved from getting wiped out by the league. All you had to do was give me Nyssa, and no one would have gotten hurt."

"It doesn't fly, Oliver. You should have talked to me. You could have called me. You called me to tell me you took Lyla. If you would have called me and told the truth, trusted me, we would have worked something out. But now is not the time to work out our problems."

"You don't understand. The league was watching me, and you don't know what Ra's would have done to me if he knew I was lying to him. You can't imagine what he would have done to me."

"Enough, I don't want to talk about it anymore. You made the wrong choice not to trust me, and you can't undo it. Felicity is what's important now. And you need to wrap your head around that fact that Felicity had an  _accident_ , and I used that to get in your head. You said it was your fault, and I agreed. I wanted to hurt you, and I did. I let and helped you beat yourself up. I wanted you to hurt. I'm the one that crossed a line this time."

"Dig, you made me feel terrible on purpose. How could you do that to me?"

"Oliver, I was getting even with you, but I hate hurting you because it hurts me too. Now I'm the one with the guilt. Oliver, you're like my brother, and I can't stand how out of control you are right now. I can hear it in your voice. You're losing it. I thought I would enjoy hurting you, but I didn't, and now it's hurting me to hurt you, so I have to fix this. Stop blaming yourself, Oliver. Get mad at me instead. I played with your head. I knew you were lost, and instead of helping you, I played with your head."

"How could you, John? You I don't know how to stop blaming myself? You left me alone when she'd just died. How could you? You're supposed to be my friend."

"Good, be angry at me, Oliver, be really angry at me, but for now, we'll figure this out together, like a team. I know you would never want Felicity hurt. Man, this is not your fault. Take it in. Not your fault."

Oliver closed his eyes, his word quiet. "John, I can't find my balance."

"You can, Oliver, and you will. Now tell me exactly what happened on that beach. I'm ready to listen now. Let's start over and pretend this just happened and you called and told me Felicity drowned but you saved her."

And he did. The words rushed out of him. Dig listened then replied, "It was an accident, Oliver. Accidents happen in real life. We don't know when they're coming and we can't stop them. Now what you have to do is accept the fact is was an accident and go on. And stop blaming yourself."

"John, all I can think is that I killed her, and I took her swimming and she died. How much bad of luck could I have? Will I never catch a break?"

"Oliver it's not like you held her under. Think about what you are saying. You didn't kill her, you saved her."

"But, if I'd warned her about the riptides. Told her what to do."

"Stop it. You have to stop blaming yourself. We all have 20/20 hindsight. People drown all the time in the riptides. You know this and trust me, Felicity looked it up."

"She did?"

"Of course, she did. What doesn't she look up? You have to get that you can't control everything, Oliver. You always think you know what's best for everyone but you don't. You have to get that no matter how much you want to, you just can't control everything."

"But that is all I know how to do." His voice rose becoming harsh.

"Well you need to rethink because the truth is that you saved Felicity. You brought her back from the dead. You refused to stop until she came back. How long did you do CPR on her?"

"I DON"T KNOW until she breathed for me." The very memory of her not breathing made his emotions rage again, threatening his control.

"Oliver, did you do CPR because you felt guilty you let her drown or because you wanted her to live?"

"Dig, that's a stupid question, of course, I wanted her to live. It had nothing to do with guilt."

"Then let the guilt go and embrace the fact that she's alive. Okay, she's sick right now, but people get sick, and then they get better. She doesn't have cancer. She has an infection in her lungs. The Dr. is helping her get better right now. You just have to calm down to get through this. Don't you have a breathing technique that you use?"

"Yes."

"Then use it to help you cope when you are overwhelmed."

"I have been." His voice cracked.

Dig asked, "Good. Now, do you want me to come? I'll leave right now."

"No, I won't ask you to do that. And right now, I mad as hell at you for playing me. I'd enjoy beating you up."

"You could try."

A small smile crossed his face. "No, there's nothing you can do. Stay with your family. I'll call you if something changes."

"Oliver, you need to focus on keeping it together, and remember together as a team, we keep her safe. I lied again when I told you didn't do your job. You did your job because you got to her in time, and you made her go to the hospital. What if you hadn't called 911?"

"She would have died when she went into cardiac arrest." His voice flat, he thought about what John was saying.

"Did she want to go to the hospital?"

"No, I made her."

"Do you see a pattern here?"

"Yes, I do." And he did. As usual, John knew what to say to make him think and feel better.

"So believe it. You saved her. And she's going to be all right. I know it. Our Felicity is a fighter and she'll beat this."

"Yeah, she is. They're helping her breathe for a little while. I can do this."

"That's right. You can do this. They're going to help her breathe until she gets better. Now stay safe and stay in control. Promise you'll call me if anything changes."

"I will."

"And Oliver, when are you going to get the nerve to ask her to marry you?"

A real smile broke his face for the first time in days. "Funny, you would ask, since I almost asked her yesterday."

"Well try again when she wakes up, and we're going to work through this like the team we are."

"Thank you, John. You've always been my rock. I needed to talk to you."

"Breathe, Oliver, and no Felicity's our rock, both of ours. And man, if you have to use the pit, I'll go with you. I'd like to have a little talk with one Malcolm Merlyn."

"Thanks, John that means a lot to me."

"Keep me posted, my friend."

A strange peace settled over him when he hung up the phone, and he found the strength to walk back into the hospital.

#####OQ#####

Walking through the ER doors, he pocketed his phone, as the ER waiting room erupted into motion. An early twenty's kid getting a police escort had unexpectedly taken the gun from Deputy Dog and now terrorized the room. People screamed, cried, ran, and of all people, Mae choose to burst through the door and into the room.

The stringy brown hair kid, with a pierced lip and nose, had entered full panic mode. And, he was higher than a kite and totally unpredictable. He flipped around, pointing the gun at Felicity's Dr.

Now the idiot had Oliver's attention.

The last thing he needed was Mae dying. Felicity could die if Mae died.

"No," Oliver yelled, "Here, right here. Look at me."

Already on the move, he dropped the duffel bag, grabbed the coffeepot from the stand and slung hot coffee in the young man's face, as the young man turned around. The young man screamed out in pain, and Oliver moved, slapping the gun from his hand with the coffee pot, deftly kicked his legs out from him gave him a quick punch that he should have put his lights out.

But the young man was high and his adrenaline was on overload. Therefore, instead of going down, the young man roared like a bear, rolled over, stood and attacked him. Oliver blocked his strong punch with the coffee pot, which shattered.

Dropping the coffee pot handle to the floor, he avoided the next punch. Then using the man's own momentum, he grabbed him and threw him crashing over a set of chairs.

More people scrambled.

He jumped over a chair behind him. Grabbing the young man, he slammed his head against the wall three times and slung him to the floor, where this time he lay prone. Oliver regretted the man didn't fight longer. He needed the release.

For an instant, the entire room went dead quiet. Barely even breathing hard, he stood and straightened his jacket. Crossing the room, he picked up the duffel bag and stood to find Mae eyeing him.

Mae nodded sharply. "I knew it. Special Forces. WOW. Thank you, Oliver. Jeff, how the hell could you let a high kid get your gun?"

"You're welcome." Oliver pushed the door open and walked back to her room.

#####OQ#####

It was amazing. Within hours, the ventilator had improved her oxygen levels, and she'd stabilized. If he would have known how much better her numbers would have been, he would have put her on the ventilator yesterday. But for now he was bone tired when he finally left her about 2 a.m. Arriving to the rental, he stripped and fell in the bed. Hugging her pillow, he passed smooth out.

But the water was drowning him and the strong hands were holding him under. They beat him until the water they drown him in turned red, and he was under the water, swallowing the water, drowning. Puking, sick from the water, he begged them to stop.

But they didn't.

Screaming the word "STOP," he came up fighting out of the dream, fighting the hands, the water, the dark, and again he ran to throw up. He was sick again repeatedly. He laid his head against the cold toilet bowl and thought about how he was going to handle this if she got well and came home?

#####OQ#####

Now three days later, he was dozing in and out as he sat beside her bed, fingering her hair tie, as he listened to the machine breathe for her. He listened to the beeps and alarms, and he listened to all the noise in the hall. He was simply totally exhausted, beyond exhausted. He knew he was going to have to really sleep, that his body would crash soon, and he was going to sleep no matter if he wanted to or not.

But he knew he couldn't sleep here, knew he couldn't throw up here.

His terrible dream had returned every time he shut his eyes long enough to enter REM sleep. Just because he couldn't control the dream didn't mean he didn't understand when he lost control. He knew there was no way he was going to have the dream here. No way at all. No, he couldn't sleep here. He knew he could hold out a little longer, then he would go back to the rental and wake up screaming there.

Mae came in and listened to her lungs and checked her vitals on the chart. "She's improving. Her numbers are up and her lungs sound a lot better. I think I have finally found the antibiotic the infection's responding to. Tomorrow we're going to start weaning her back off the vent, and then  we'll wake her up. Oliver, she's going to live. Now will you please go home and get some sleep."

He jumped up and not just hugged her, he spun her around. Then he called John and everyone else to give them the good news. He was going to get another chance and yes, he was happy.

#####OQ#####

Thoughts? Reviews? Love to hear it. And thanks for the read.


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver sat rolling her hair tie between his fingers and hoped this time she would pass the breathing test. It was strange to hope because he normally never allowed himself the luxury. Hope was for fools. He 'd learn that hard lesson years ago. Time and time again he'd seen where hope had nothing to do with getting the job done. 

No hope was useless and he knew it.

He'd hoped someone would rescue him after the Gambit had sank. Well look how well that had worked out for him. No, hope had never helped him, not on the island, not on the ship, and not in China or in Russia. And hope hadn't helped him in dealing with Ra's. No, planning, training, and fighting was what got the job done, not hoping, but unfortunately, hope was all he had right now.

Together they'd been here ten days now. Ten long days in critical care and still a lot of days left before she would get to go home. It was strange he'd started thinking of anywhere but this hospital room as being home.

A nurse named Becky and a respiratory therapist named Ginger entered the room. Ten days is a long time, especially when you don't sleep much, so he'd bothered to learn her caregiver's names. These were the people who were keeping her live, and he lifted a hand when they entered. Somehow knowing their names made he feel more in control of this situation, and knowing their names meant he knew exactly who was doing what, and yes, he watched them to make sure they were doing their jobs, for he needed them to do their jobs. 

Okay, Dig was right, he had OCD about keeping her safe.

Using Felicity's tablet, he'd learned about being on the vent. No, the pros didn't call it a ventilator, it was a vent. And the internet was a resource full of things that could wrong while on the vent. The more he read the less he wished he knew. The vent could cause a different pneumonia, either one of her lungs could collapse at any time, or the therapist could damage her lungs if the vent pressure was too strong or straight out kill her with too much oxygen. Talk about knowing too much information.

Yet, it gave him something else to worry about. He learned where her numbers were supposed to be, and he kept an eye on the machines, making sure her numbers were in the right place. He was still trying to keep her safe, and he made sure everyone was doing their jobs correctly. 

This was all he had. That and hope. 

How sad was that?

Mae and he had discussed how blood clots were a major problem and this was another way the vent could kill you. It was easier for someone on the vent to be asleep and sedated people didn't move, which caused circulation problems. He knew Mae had her on a blood thinner. And he made sure someone turned her every two hours. If they were busy, which sometimes the nurses were, then he turned her, according to the chart on the wall showing what side she was supposed to be on. He worked her legs and arms himself, keeping her moving, making sure the blood didn't pool and didn't cause a clot. He made sure her feet were elevated, and she had her compression socks on and the machine was running. But, he knew the longer she stayed on the vent, the greater the risk of a clot. And a clot would kill her and would give little to no warning when it did.

Becky and Ginger were working on Felicity's machines and he knew again, today they were having another spontaneous awakening trial. Oh, the new words he'd learned since this started. All those big words meant they were going to try to wake her up again, that they were still trying to wean her off the vent.  

Yesterday and the day before, she'd failed the test with low oxygen levels, and she'd become distressed when they shut down the vent. Twenty long seconds had passed as he waited for her to breathe and his stomach fell when the alarm had gone off.  Twice now she'd failed the test, and Ginger had turned the vent back on. Felicity hadn't gotten to wake up before she had failed the test, and he'd been totally disappointed.

It'd been hard, but he'd accepted she'd be gone another day. 

Ginger, the respiratory therapist has assured him this was normal, and they would keep trying to wake her up until her lungs could handle it. And he'd kept it together even though he had read that sometimes people couldn't be weaned off the vent. But he didn't want to think like that. His Felicity was strong, and he needed to believe that.

So, instead of losing it, he'd done his job and called Thea and then John and updated them and settled in to wait. Thankfully, Dig dealt with all the people who cared about Felicity, people like Laurel and Barry and his team for he couldn't have handled talking to all of them. 

However, he'd adjusted to this life he now lived and each day was getting a little easier. He'd done as Dig had asked and kept it under control. 

Well almost. 

For in those few hours he left her, he still ran a lot and slept very little, but that was the way things were right now, for the terrible dream still haunted him when ever he shut his eyes for any length of time.

Ginger had backed down the amount the vent helped her breathe several hours ago, and this time Felicity had done fine and again his foolish hope had crept into his mind. Yes, no alarms were a wonderful thing, a beautiful thing. Since she had passed the first part of the test, now the nurse named Becky had stopped her sedative medications, and they were allowing Felicity to wake up to see if she could breathe on her own. He tried not to be too hopeful she'd wake up this time, but he since he couldn't plan, train or fight the sickness, he only had his silly thing called hope. 

The air in the room seemed thick as both the nurse and the respiratory therapist monitored her. Stuffing her hair tie back in his pocket he stood as he hoped she would wake up this time. He needed her.

Becky finally nodded at him. "Okay, she's on her own now. Talk to her, Oliver. Let's wake her up."

"Felicity. Wake up. Come on. You can wake up now."

Her eyes fluttered, and he took her hand. "That's it. Come on back, Felicity. I miss you."

Her eyes snapped open, and her grip tightened on his hand.

"Shh don't try to talk while the tube is still in." Her eyes went wild, and he reassured her. "No, don't freak out. You're doing great. Just don't fight the tube."

"Yes, Oliver, she's looking good. I'm going to remove the tube. Felicity, breathe out for me."

And finally the vent was gone and he smiled broadly.

She coughed a little and ask, "Oliver?" in a scratchy voice.

"Yes, I'm here, right here. Welcome back, Felicity. I missed you."

"My throat hurts."

"Completely normal. Here give her a sip of water." Becky handed Oliver a cup with a straw, and he held it for her to get a drink.

"Her levels are dropping. Let's put the oxygen back on her."

"How long was I out?" 

"Seven long days."

"I'm better?"

His heart contracted, as he reached out and touched her soft cheek. "Yes, lots. Welcome back." 

He swallowed a couple times to get under control again since he could barely keep his emotions in check. 

Okay, the oxygen was back again but this time it was only a tube in her nose. A step up from a full face mask in his opinion.

"Oliver?"

"I'm right here."

"Come closer."

"Okay." He leaned in and she demanded, "Kiss me."

So softly, he pressed his lips to hers, and she sighed for him. "I missed you. Even if I was asleep. Not that I remember being asleep. I think I dreamed. Maybe? I don't know. I'm confused right now. You sure it's been seven days?"

Pulling back a little, he looked her in her eyes.

"Are you high, Felicity?" 

"Probably." She gave a sweet grin and then her eyes fluttered shut again. "But you can kiss me again. Yes, please kiss me again."

Smiling, he did. He kissed her softly again. How sweet she was. How much he loved the touch of her lips to his. But he knew she was drifting back into sleep.

Ginger explained, "It's going to take her a little while to come around, and she will probably be confused for a bit, but, Oliver, her numbers are pretty good this time. I think she's going to survive this. We're going to keep helping her with a little oxygen for a while, and of course, we'll restart her breathing treatments."

"I hate breathing treatment. They're always waking me up. Tell them to go away."

"Shh, rest. Thank you both for helping her." His relief made him light headed, and he almost needed to sit down, but for a while, he stood there and held her hand, while she dozed and breathed on her own. It was wonderful she could breathe on her own. Then he reached for his phone and called John and then Thea and gave them the good news so they could pass it on.

######OQ######

Later, when she had truly woken up and he had her sitting up in the bed she still wanted to nap, no matter how he tried to keep her awake

A knock came and Mae came in.

"How are you feeling, Felicity?"

"I need a nap."

"I know but I want you to get up and sit up in a chair."

"Can I do it tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, no. I know you're still tired, Felicity, but you have to get up and moving again or your lungs will fill up again. Plus you need to walk a little."

He could tell she wasn't feeling it since she shut her eyes.

"Oliver, this is something you can help with. Felicity, open your eyes. I need you to move. Moving keeps the blood clots away and keeps your lungs from filling back up. If your lungs fill up you'll be back on the vent again."

"Again? Not, again, Felicity." Oliver's tone dark, he added, "Well I can help her do that right now if she feels up to it. Felicity?"

She signed deeply then opened her eyes. "Okay, I'll try."

"Try to sit up about 15 minutes."

He moved her carefully to the chair but it wasn't ten minutes until she was falling asleep in the chair, and he had to move her back.

And he frowned.

#####OQ#####

"Can I take a bath? A real bath. I feel icky."

Mae came in to do rounds. "I don't see why not. But we're moving you out of Critical Care today and on to the main floor, so let's wait until we do."

Oliver smiled so large, he thought his face would break. "That's great news. Really we're moving? Downgrading?"

"Yes, really. Felicity you are making some process, so, yes, I'm downgrading you. Pack up. After we get you moved you can take a real bath. I'll send someone to take off your telemetry and notify the techs that you will be going off line."

Oliver knew the woman was talking about the small box in her gown's pocket that had five leads connected to the pads stuck on her chest and a tech somewhere monitored her heart. Oh, yes, the things he'd learned lately.

"Oliver, why don't you help her with her bath. She's still pretty weak, and the last thing I need is a patient falling.

"Okay, I can do that." Though the thought of helping her  was a little scary. Their relationship hadn't actually reached the be in the bathroom at the same time stage let along the he give her a bath stage while she was sick stage. Of course, he'd thought about taking a shower with her, but as a man, when he'd thought about them in the shower or bath together, she hadn't been sick. 

No, she hadn't been sick at all and he looked forward to her being well in the future.

It wasn't long and the staff moved them into a private room. It took a little bit to do since while she had been on the vent, the get well balloons and flowers had started arriving. Felicity's friends didn't want her to think they'd forgotten her, and even Captain Lance had send purple roses, which meant a window sill of flowers moved with them. 

On third floor now, they'd acquired a new head nurse, he didn't know named Mary. She frowned at him as he moved all the flowers and fought the "Get Well" balloons, finally trying the gaggle of them to the end of the bed. However, from Mary's deep frown, he could tell Mary and he were not going to be new best friends.

She left the room but soon Mary arrived with fresh gowns, fresh compression socks, towels and other bath supplies.

"Dr. Mae said you can be off the oxygen during your bath, but don't take too long." She looked at Oliver, and he had the distinct feeling she didn't approve of him. Then she removed the wires on her chest. Oliver turned his head, but he noted Felicity still had a fading yellow bruise from where he had done CPR on her, and it'd been almost two weeks now.  Thankfully, he'd only bruised her and not broken several of her ribs.

Entering the bathroom, he filled the tub and returned. "Ready?"

"I don't know about this?" He heard the shyness in her voice.

"Come on, Felicity, I could see where this could be fun." Then not giving her time to protest, he picked her up. "Wrap your arms around my neck, and hold on to me tight." And when she did, he then held her one armed, so he could push the IV in front of them and headed into the bathroom.

"Oliver! Wait. I . . ."

"I'm only going to give you a bath. Nothing else. It's now like I'm planning on taking advantage of you."

"Oliver, you're awful. You're right you're a bad boy."

She turned her head into his chest, and he realized he'd embarrassed her, and he found it endearing, somehow.

"You could still hear me, huh?"

"Every word. Every single word. All of them. Just you wait until I get well. I have major plans for you. Lots of plans."

"I can't wait, and I didn't say I wouldn't like to take advantage of you, just that I wouldn't." 

"Wipe that grin off you face since you're not funny."

"I'm not trying to be. Can you stand?" He lowered her feet to the floor.

"Maybe? I'll try."

She clung to him, as he stripped the soiled gown off her and helped her step out of her panties. Felicity turned a nice shade of pink while he did that, but he pushed through the job. Then minding the IV, he lifted her and placed her in the warm water and began to wash her as she laid her head against the tub and didn't even try to sit up.

Again this was a task he'd never done for another person, and again, he found comfort in doing the act for her. Her continued weakness worried him, and he could tell she struggled to stay awake, as he did all those personal things that she needed done. And once again, he talked to her as he did this strange thing of taking care of another person when they were sick.

"Dig texted me that Sara's table walking now."

"Table walking?"

"You know? Dig says she holds the coffee table to walk and goes round and round. He sent videos. You can watch it later when your up to it. She's very cute in a baby sort of way."

She sighed, as he washed her. "She's growing fast. I'm glad he shared her with you."

He knew her words had a hidden meaning, but he, also, was glad John seemed to slowly be starting to forgive him. "Yes, she is. Tip you head back for me."

"I'm glad you two are talking again. Did John call you when they put me on life support?"

She's lost a lot of weight, he thought, but he didn't say it. "Yes, he did. He's called several times now. And I keep him updated on you everyday. Him and Thea and they tell Laurel and the rest of your friends. You know your mom still wants to come. You should call her. I do think I could handle her being here now if you want her to come."

"It's me that can't handle it not you and no, Mom, can stay in Vegas. But I'll call her later."

"And you should call Dig, when you feel like talking. I know he'd love to talk to you."

She closed her eyes, and he could tell she was drifting away on him, but she surprised him by saying, "Is John still mad at you?"

Oliver sighed and then frowned before he added, "Probably, but he's at least talking to me. Well kinda of. He still isn't texting me."

"Then it's good he shared a video of Sara. Are you almost done? Oliver, I'm getting really tired, and not even for a good reason. Not that this isn't a good reason. I'm going to be quiet now."

"I wish it was for a good reason. But yes, we're done." He smiled as she turned pink again while he finished rinsing her hair and then wrapped her hair in a towel.

"I'm cold, Oliver." She shivered.

He should have known she'd get cold. With her weight loss, her body fat was low. Quickly, he helped her to stand, wrapped her in a towel and lifted her from the tub. Sitting her on the toilet lid, he toweled her off. Putting a clean gown on her, he struggled with the challenge to get it buttoned around her IV. Who designed these stupid things? He needed to buy her some real PJ's, something with bunnies or something silly like that ,and a robe, and she needed slippers, he thought.

Finally, he put her in the chair beside the bed and pulled the cover from the bed, wrapping her up. Then he replaced her oxygen on her nose, and the lead that went on her finger and checked her oxygen level. She almost too low at 86. No wonder she was tired. He lifted her and sat down on the bed, pulling her against him, trying to warm her with his body.

"Talk to me, Oliver. I like the sound of your voice. Tell me something about your childhood. Anything." She snuggled hard against his chest, and he absorbed the feel of her and her scent. How he loved the way she smelled, the way she leaned into him with total trust. He didn't even mind her getting his shirt wet with her wet hair. How close he come to losing this, to losing her filled his mind? He pressed his lips together for a moment and rolled his neck to relieve the stress his thoughts had caused.

"Childhood? Hmm. Nannies. I remember nannies. Private schools and getting in trouble a lot."

"Now why am I not surprised you got in trouble in school?"

"Well, I wasn't the best student. And I learned pretty quickly there were no consequences for messing up so why brother to be good."

"And your parents didn't punish you? My mom would have freaked out if I got in trouble in school."

"No, oh, they would talk to me, urge me to do better and rush off to their next meeting, but both Thea and I were raised by nannies. A lot of nannies."

"A lot? How many is a lot?"

He eyed her oxygen number and saw her numbers were rising.

"I don't remember. I would come home in the limo from private school, normally in trouble, and whoever the nanny of the week would be gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone, packed up, poof, they would disappear like a puff of smoke. Mom had either fired my nanny, or the woman had quit. I learned not to get attached. I didn't blame them since I was a bit of a spoiled brat. "

"Who you? Never." She tried to laugh but then she coughed several times, and he frowned deeply. She caught her breathe. "Go on. I'm still awake. So nannies raised you."

"Well them and our housekeeper, Raisa. I knew her better than my mother or  any of my nannies. I went to her when I fell down and scraped my knee or had a problem. She told me I had a good heart and could do better than what I was doing."

"Where was your mom? She didn't work did she?"

"No, Mom, didn't work but she always had a meeting, a club to attend or an appointment. And same with my father, though he used to take me to work with him sometimes. I remember playing under his desk and getting to drink soda in his office. But I never really knew either of them. I know you better, Felicity, and I don't even know when your birthday is. How could I not know when your birthday is?"

"March 5th."

"March 5th?"

"That's my birthday."

"Well guess I missed it this year. I'm very sorry, Felicity, how did I miss your birthday for three years?"

"I don't know. We didn't spend much time partying in the lair from what I remember."

He smiled knowing she made him smile as he promised, "Well I'm not going to miss it next year."

"Okay, you can cook for me."

"I'll plan on it."

"It's rather strange you can cook."

"I can grill too. Island skills you know?"

"Awesome. Oliver, but, I now I have to go to sleep."

"Okay, I'll wait for you to wake up. I truly do love you, Felicity."

"I love you, too, Oliver."

And she drifted away in his arms, and when the nurse stuck her head in, he frowned and shook his head.

"Her leads are off. I need to put them back on."

He could tell him and Mary were going to knock heads. "Let her be. She's okay. Let her rest for a few more minutes."

"Okay, but only for a few minutes." The nurse wasn't smiling when she shut the door.

He held her until frowning Mary returned, and then he slowly laid her down. The nurse awoke her, reattaching all the cords again. Then he covered her back up. He would wait to do her hair later after she rested for a while, later when she woke up,

Then he heard her cough again, and he again he frowned.

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for the read and any review.


	8. Chapter 8

Enter grumpy Felicity this morning, he thought. Clearly not in a good mood, she ignored not only him but a physical therapist named Trevor, when Oliver entered the room the next morning.

"Come on, Ms. Felicity, it's time to get out of the bed. And guess what?"

"What?" She added a snarl with the word.

"We're going to walk across the room this morning."

"No, WE are NOT.  Go away. I'm tired right now. Last night was awful. Between the breathing treatments and the nurses, I didn't sleep at all." She turned her back to the man.

"I know you're tired, but you still need to get up. We've talked about this. You have to keep moving to keep the pneumonia away."

"NO, I'm not getting up right now. Just come back later. I'm going to take a nap."

"Sorry, it has to be this morning. You have to get moving. Come on, Ms. Felicity, you wouldn't want me to lose my job, would you?"

"Right at the moment, YES. Why don't you people get that I'm tired? Can't you people just leave me alone for five minutes?" And then she coughed, repeatedly.

Oliver frowned deeply. "Felicity, I don't like the sound of your cough. It could mean your lungs are filling up and you're getting sick again."

She turned toward him. "I just coughed. One tiny, itty bitty cough. It's no big deal. Don't borrow trouble." She gave him a hard look. "I'm not getting sick again."

"Felicity, look at your oxygen number. It's going down not up. You have to move more if you want to get better. I know you're tired, but you can do this. Now why don't you get up and work with this nice young man."

"Butt out, Oliver." Her tone harsh.

Trevor managed to get her to sit up. But she crossed her arms and pushed out her chin, clearly not interested in rehab today.

"I'm not butting out, Felicity." He flashed her a charming smile, to which she rolled her eyes. , "Look, I know your still weak and tired, but do you want the full oxygen mask back? Do you want to go back to Critical Care? You already have a low grad temp. Felicity, you're smart. You know what all this means."

"I'm not getting sick again. I'm getting better. But if everyone doesn't leave me alone for a little while, I'm going to scream."

Oliver could see her melt down coming. For the last two days, he'd watched as she'd begun to whine a little more, to complain a little more, and to sink feet first into self-pity. It wasn't that he didn't understand why.

No, she'd been a real trouper, but she'd also been sick for almost two weeks. And yes, that was a long time, a very long time, even if she'd been asleep seven days of it. He knew she almost deserved to feel sorry for herself, but he couldn't allow it. No, he'd watched her pity party long enough, and he needed her to survive this illness.

"I understand your frustration, Felicity, but you have to get up and walk. If you don't, you're going to get sick again."

"Leave me alone. Why can't everyone leave me alone for one minute. I can't stand it any more." Turning her back to him, she pulled the covers over her head.

"Stop being a baby." He pulled the covers away from her head and reached for her, but she shoved his hands away.

"I'm not being a baby. But I'm tired of this. OVER IT." Her voice raising, she cut the air with her hand in a slashing motion.

"You think I'm not over this? Well I am. Don't you get it, Felicity? I don't want you to go back to Critical Care. And if you don't get up and move, that is right were we are headed. Now you need to stop whining and get up." 

"I'll think I  _will_  come back later." Trevor exited the room.

She sat up in the bed. "I'm not WHINING. And it wasn't you in Critical Care. It was me." She jabbed herself in the chest, then pointed her finger at him. "It isn't you hooked to all these tubes and wires, it's me, and I want everyone to leave, go away, exit the room, the fracking building. You included. I need a little peace, a little space. Why don't you get that and GO AWAY!"

"Sorry but it doesn't work like that." He knew he'd upset her, that tears were starting to leak from her eyes, but he pressed on. "And, you're wrong. Both of us where in Critical Care. We're in this together. Remember I CHOSE YOU this time, so I was the one awake most of the time. You got to sleep though all those hours. ME, I was awake and watched that machine breathe for you. Not MY idea of a good time. So, I'm not doing that again, Felicity. Now you're going to get up and fight to get better."

"It's always about you isn't it, OLIVER? Well this is about me. I don't want to get up. It's TOO hard. I'm awake all the time, too. I can't get any sleep here. Someone is always waking me up, checking my vitals, stabbing me with a needle, taking my blood, and I hate breathing treatments. You don't know how much I hate them. They're never ending, day and night. I just want to go home, Oliver. Please, just take me home."

He could tell she was about to melt down, but he couldn't back down since he needed her to survive this.

What would he do if she didn't SURVIVE this? He would die, and he knew it.

"I'll take you home, I promise, but first you have to get up and move more, and then someday we'll get out of here."

"You think I don't want that? I'm ready to get out of here now." She yelled.

He yelled back. "Then get up."

"I can't." And she coughed.

"YES, you will. You're coughing again. I hear your lungs filling up from laying in that bed. You have to get up or you're going to get sick again."

"It's a small cough. It doesn't mean a thing. And Oliver, you're yelling at me."

"You're right I am. And I'm going to keep yelling if you don't stop lying to yourself and me. Remember lying is what I do best." And he looked her in the eye when she started to speak again. "No, Felicity, I hear the lie. This is the beginning of the end again." Now his voice boomed. "We're not going back to Critical Care, and you're NOT going back on the vent, not if I can help it. So, damn it, you're going to get up and move, and I mean right now."

She burst into real tears and hugged her knees sobbing now. "I can't. I just can't. I'm not strong like you, Oliver." Bawling now, she face becoming splotchy he knew he'd caused her pain. And he wanted to pull her into his arms and soothe her, but that wasn't going to get her out of that bed. He had to push her, had to make her mad enough to get up and fight to get better.

"Yes, you are. You're strong. You're my rock and Digs, and crying like a child, isn't going to change my mind. Now you're going to get up, and you're going to walk."

Jerking her head up, she didn't bother to wipe her tears. "Oh, the great Oliver Queen tells me not to act like child. Now that is rich. Really rich."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Felicity."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself."

"Right. And that's like saying I wear my emotions on my sleeve."

"Did you try to make a joke?"

"No funny huh? Will nigher is you feeling sorry for yourself. So get with the program and stop being lazy."

"How dare you?"

He glared at her. "I dare plenty. I love you, Felicity, and I'm not going to lose you. I can't lose you. Understand it. Process it and get with the program."

Moving, he pulled her IV drip stand as far out at the line would reach.

"What do you think you're doing?" She wiped the tears off her face with the backs of her hands and sniffing.

"Getting you up."

Reaching, he removed her oxygen, then he lifted her and even though she struggled, and yelled, "PUT ME DOWN." 

He carried her one armed and pushed the IV with the other hand to the other side of the room. She struggled against him, yelling at him, calling him some choice not very nice names, as he managed to place her on her feet, well away from her bed.

"Now, unless you want to fall down, you'd better stand up."

"Wait. NO. Stop it. Oliver, you're being mean to me." She still cried, but now she yelled at him too.

Mary, the nurse, stuck her head in the door. "What's going on in here? You're upsetting my patient. I knew you were trouble, Mr. Queen, the moment, I first laid eyes on you. I'm going to call security and have you removed."

"Go ahead, but get out, Mary. I mean it, get out, now. This is between us." He pointed at the door.

"Well I never." Mary gave a huff, but she shut the door.

"Now, Felicity. Stand or fall." And, he stepped away from her, but he stayed close enough he could catch her if she collapsed.

"I hate you right now, Oliver." Her voice cold, she grabbed the IV pole and used it for support. He could tell she was unsteady, but she remained on her feet.

"Good, hate me all you want, but if you want back in that bed, you'll walk to it. You're getting up, Felicity."

And slowly, she walked the five steps it took to get her back in the bed, and then she threw a pillow at him with the words. "Get out, Oliver. Just get out. I don't want to look at you." Unbelievably, she then threw her water glass at him, shocking enough he almost didn't dodge the cup, but the water hit him full force and soaked the front of his shirt.

"Seriously, Felicity? Throwing things?"

"GET OUT." She slid off the bed and used her IV stand for support, moving toward the windows sill holding her flowers.

He made for the door before she reached the flowers, and he threw the words, "Awesome, be mad. It's good for you. And if you think I won't be back to get you up again, then you better think again. I love you. Felicity. You're going to get well, so I can have you healthy again." 

Then he barely made it out the door, when he heard something strike the door hard, and the sound of glass shattering on the floor filled the air, and he wondered who's flowers had bitten the dust, and he kind of hoped they were Lances' purple roses.

#####OQ#####

"I'm still mad at you. Go away." She'd turned over and put her back to him when he re-entered the room a couple of hours later.

"Good. Anger's an awesome motivational tool. Trust me, I would know."

"I mean it, Oliver. Go away."

"So do I. But that's not happening."

No answer. His eyes scanned the window sill and no, Lances' roses were still there. Darn.

"I brought you something, Felicity."

"That's not going to work. Not for a second. I'm really mad at you. You're being mean to me."

"You'll like it. Call it a peace offering." He teased her, tempting her.

"I'm not feeling very peaceful right now. Not peaceful in the least. Like as far away from peaceful as a person can get."

"I know, but you'll like it. Come on look."

Slowly, she turned over. She sighed then gave him a small smile. "Awe. How cute."

Grinning what he knew must be a silly grin, he handed her a pair of pink Hello Kitty house slippers. Then she gave him a pained look. "Your way of telling me it's time to get up and walk again. Huh?"

Knowing he'd pleased her, he savored the sweet look on her face and gave her a slow smile. "See I knew you were smart. I also got you these." He handed her a set of Hello Kitty PJ's and a creamy pink soft robe. "I thought maybe they would make you feel better.

"Oh, you remembered I like Hello Kitty." She smiled at him, and he treasured her smile, glad he'd caused it.

"I remember everything about you, especially your shoes, and I got Thea to help me, so I hope the size is right."

"Awe. I love them."

"Felicity would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"Dinner?"

"Yes, out of this room dinner. In your new PJ's. Don't you want to be out of this room?"

Again with the small smile, then she nodded. "Yes, please, I'd love it." Then she raised her head. "I'm not strong, Oliver, not like you. And I noticed you never said you were sorry for being mean to me earlier."

"You're right. I'm not sorry. But you are strong, very strong and you have always been strong. But right now you have to try a little harder. I need you to get well, and you're going to have to work to do it."

"It' not like I haven't tried." Her voice had become quiet.

"I know that. But you have to try harder. And I know it's been hard for you, and you still don't feel well, and sure you're tired." He reached out and tipped her chin up making her look in his eyes. "But I will do whatever has to be done to make sure you get well. Believe it, Felicity, I'll do whatever it takes. Even if I have to be mean to you."

"I'm sure you will." She lifted her chin and pulled away from his touch, with a sigh, then held up her new slippers. "I accept your apology you never offered, but since we had a real fight with yelling on both sides, then we have to kiss to makeup."

"If you're accepting the apology I never offered, then maybe you should apologize for throwing things at me. You soaked my shirt. And I have feeling those flowers were aimed at my head."

She jabbed him in the chest with a finger repeatedly. "You make past angry with your pushy, high handedness. Just because you're bigger than me doesn't mean you can push me around. I wish I would have hit you with the cup and the flowers." 

And then she coughed.

He cringed and grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "And you say I'm mean. Who knew you could have a baby fit and throw things. By the way who's flowers did you throw?"

"Hmm, I think they were Laurel's. And you yelled at me first. Oliver, you really yelled at me. I thought about it after you left. I yelled and you yelled back. It was a real argument. You didn't shut down. You didn't look down. You yelled back." She pulled him toward her and released his hand to wrap her arms around his stomach and laid her head against his chest. His hands reached and pulled her closer.

"You know most women would not consider yelling to be a good thing?"

"Well I'm not most women and know how far you have shut your emotions down because of what has happened lately. Yelling for you is a very good thing."

Oh, how he loved her. She was right he'd yelled at her. When they had started this adventure together, she'd been angry that he wouldn't fight with her, that he'd buried his emotions so deep he couldn't even yell at her, while she screamed at him.

Joining the league and what Ra's had done that to him had caused him to embrace complete emotional shutdown. He had to not feel, to not want, to not hope, and he tried not to think about Felicity ever. Well she wanted him to yell back at her, to show emotion, and he had. And she'd threw things at him. Strange she would consider this progress in their relationship.

But slowly, he pulled her away from him, and tipping her head back, he leaned down and placed his lips on hers, and when he broke the kiss, he sucked her bottom lip for a second. Then whispered, "You know I haven't forgot what you taste like. And I'd  like for you to get well so I could remind you of some other things I remember."

He tried to give her incentive to get well. He needed her to get well. For an instant the nightmare crossed his mind, but he would deal with that later, though he still didn't know how.

But, then, he really smiled, as she slowly squeezed his forearm, while, she pulled his head down with her hands, and she nipped his ear lobe. "Just you wait until I get well and put my mouth on you for real." 

And for an instant desire coursed through him, and he truly smiled down at her.

#####OQ#####

Several hours later, he'd talked to Mae and her nurses, and they'd found her a portable oxygen tank and gotten her unhooked from the IV, though she still had the port in her arm. She'd managed to change into her almost too big PJ's, and she wore her robe. He had brushed and re-braided her hair, and she looked adorable enough he smiled when he looked at her. But that didn't mean, he was cutting her a break.

"Come on, Felicity. If you stand up by YOURSELF, and walk 4 steps and get in this chair, we'll get out of here."

"Do you know how much work it was to get changed? And now I have to walk too? You know that how hard this is for me?"

"It's four steps. You can do four steps. You've got this." But when she stood and he saw how unsteady she was, he crossed the room and extended his arm to steady her.

She worked for those hard four steps. And he knew it from the way she leaned on him, but she did it. But she's tried and that mattered the most.

So for the first time in over two weeks, together they left the room. He wheeled her to the cafeteria, and they went through the line and got dinner. He laughed a little when he saw it was spaghetti night. Then he wheeled her to a table and together they ate pretty bad hospital spaghetti and a decent salad.

And they talked about Sara growing up, a safe zone. Together they watched the video of Sara table walking, and Felicity even gave a small laugh, when Sara fell down with a plop on her butt, but then Sara pulled herself up and tried again.

Afterwards, he took her outside and pushed her around the grounds, and he absorbed the fact both of them where together and alive, and she only coughed a little. Between two buildings, he found a small flower garden, and he wheeled her in. Stopping, he set her brake on the wheelchair, and he let her sit in the fading sunlight. Sitting, on a bench beside her, he reached for her hand.

"Oliver, this is nice. The view's beautiful here."

"Yes, it is." As he look at her and not the flowers.

"Thank you, Oliver. I needed this."

"What?"

"Tonight, my presents, you trying to do something to please me. Do you realize that these are the first presents you've ever brought me, well, except for coffee or takeout, and you brought a lot of tech stuff, you probably didn't know it. But those don't really count, even though you did pay for it. This you did only for me."

"You know I want you to be happy?"

"I know, and I am right now. But, I guess I'm kind of like Sara, huh? I'm learning to walk with baby steps."

And he smiled, as they sat there in silence, even though he could tell her eyes were starting to close. He had a feeling she was going to fall asleep on him before they got back to the room, which, of course, she did, but still it was a wonderful date, a perfect date and he savored she was alive, getting well, and the fact he could say that he loved her as he picked her up, kissed her forehead and tucked her back into bed.

#####OQ#####

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	9. Chapter 9

Felicity stood looking out the window, feeling the sun on her face, savoring being alive and all the tubes and wires being gone, finally gone. A week had pasted since Oliver had been so mean to her, and everyday he had continued to push her, and though she would never tell him that was probably why she had gotten better. She wanted to be with him,and wanted a life with him, so she had to work for it. Yes, he had finally chosen her, and she had decided that she had also chosen him, so she had to defeat her illness. But that didn't mean she had to make his ego any larger.

Now, today was an awesome day because she was about to be discharged. They were finally going to get out of this hospital. She couldn't believe how life could change so swiftly. Last week she had been dying, and now, she felt almost well.

But she had lost almost three weeks of her life. And her lungs were still having problems, and she was still weak and tired a lot, but life was suddenly so wonderful again. Maybe more wonderful that it had ever been, but Felicity had also lost the idea that she was immoral. Oh, she had been in danger, but deep down she had always believed Oliver would keep her safe. She hadn't believed she could really die.

Well, she understood clearly now that yes, she could die, for she had, and she now realized her life could be over in a instant. And she wanted to really live whatever time she had left, and she wanted to spend it with Oliver.

Oliver was doing better now, she could tell, for his silly smile had returned, and so had some of his reserve. Well you can't have everything, she thought. And oh, the things he had shared while she had been sick, when he thought she couldn't hear him. But she could see changes in him.

Yes, he had really changed. No longer was he totally shutting himself off from her, so they as a couple had really moved forward. He was starting to trust her enough to share pieces of himself, tiny pieces but still things he had always kept to himself. And just think all it had taken was her almost dying a couple of times. She shook her head and gave a small laugh.

Mae entered the room and shut the door behind her. Mae smiled at her and said, "Felicity, I have signed your discharge papers. The nurse will be here soon to finish the checkout. But I wondered if I could speak with you a moment?"

"Of, course." She flashed Mae a smile.

"Let me tell you that you are such a wonderful strong young woman, but I want you to take it easy for a few weeks. I'm not saying you can't have sex but go slow."

"Mae!"

Mae put her hand up and said, "Like that man of yours doesn't want to have sex? Not very likely. And Oliver, clearly loves you a lot."

Felicity blushed but she smiled.

"However, you are going to tire easily for a while, and you still need to see a respiratory therapist a couple times a week for at least another month, maybe two. We'll just see how it goes, but I do expect you to make a full recovery. All good news, but, Felicity, before you leave, I wanted to talk to you about Oliver."

"Oliver?"

"Yes, Oliver Jonas Queen, though I think he has another name too."

Felicity tensed as Mae continued by saying, "Yes, I looked him up, and no, I don't know everything about him, but I think I understand now why he tries not to sleep. He has terrible nightmares doesn't he?"

Felicity stomach plunged. She didn't know what to say without giving away their secrets, so she pressed her lips together and kept quiet.

Mae sighed and said, "Felicity, I didn't really expect you to answer me, and I want you to understand that I have no intention to cause you or him any problems." Again, Mae put her hand up before she continued and said, "I understand Oliver is a man with secrets, probably a lot of secrets, and ones he doesn't share easily."

Felicity exhaled sharply.

"Wait, don't panic." Mae held up her hand. "I'm not telling you what I know as a threat. I truly want to help, Oliver and you. And, quite frankly, I owe him. He very well might have saved my life."

"You owe him?"

"Yes, he took out a very high kid pointing a gun at me in the ER a couple weeks ago and let's say he did it with very little wasted movement, very efficiently, indeed."

"Yes, if there is one thing Oliver is, he's efficient." Where was Mae going with this? Felicity thought.

"But that isn't what I wanted to talk about. Oliver has a bad case of chronic PSTD. I have been watching him for this last three weeks. I saw the bandages on his hands after you drowned. I know he hurt himself. And I don't think that is the first time he has done it."

"This is none of your business, Mae."

"No it's not, but I really like the two of you. I worked hard to keep you from dying, Felicity. And never have a seen a man that loves so deeply as Oliver loves you. It is amazing to watch, but your man hardly sleeps, so he is very sleep deprived. When you were really ill that was the reason he was having problems controlling himself. And I have a feeling he is not a man that enjoys being out of control."

"Oliver wasn't in control was he?" But it really wasn't a question. It was a statement, and she knew it. And she had know when she was sick he was having real problems, that he could have hurt himself, and Oliver's lack of control was the real reason she had written John the text she had when she went on life support.

"No, he wasn't, and I think he was standing on the edge of a breakdown most of the time you were really sick, and that is another reason I let him stay with you. That, and, frankly, I didn't want to see the hell he would have raised, if I would have tried to keep him away from you. You didn't know, but I could have airlifted you out of here, and let Oliver go to jail in Dallas. Because, trust me, when he raised hell in a Dallas hospital, he would have gotten arrested."

Felicity's eyes narrowed and she said, "I'm sure you made the right choice letting him be with me, Mae. Thank you, for bringing his chronic PTSD to my attention."

"Don't insult me by lying to me, Felicity. You are smarter than that. I see the way you two interact. You're well aware that he has, what if we call them  _issues_. You may not be married, but you two just haven't said the words in front of a preacher. Your history together is there in your eyes, and you know him probably better than anyone. And I bet it has been hard to get him to be with you, to commit to you."

"You are stepping over a line here, Mae."

"Maybe, but I am calling you on your lie. No way you don't know he doesn't sleep, that his nightmares are tormenting him, and Felicity, when he doesn't sleep, it's hard on his body. Do you want him to survive to be old? Do you want to grow old with him?"

Her head snapped up. "Of course, I do."

"Then you need to get him help or help him, since he is probably going to ignore the signs until it is too late, and you will lose him to a heart attack or to a stroke, and you will get to bury him."

"No, he's still young and in great physical shape."

"On the outside but not the inside. I would wager his stress levels are off the charts, way off the charts. Stress kills, Felicity, no matter how fit or young you are."

"How would you know that?"

"Felicity, I'm old. I can read people's body language. It he ever really relaxed? At ease? Except for after sex?"

Felicity couldn't help it, she blushed.

"You don't have to answer, but I know the man hardly sleeps. People talk here, Felicity, and he spent hours and hours with you when you were sedated, and he didn't sleep. I had to send him home several times. And I would bet his nightmares are the reason he is so physically fit. I believe that he pushes his body to extremes, pushes himself so far that is he's so totally exhausted, he will sleep so hard that he can't dream."

Felicity didn't answer her but thought, yes, that was Oliver. He pushed himself to total exhaustion, past total exhaustion. He hardly slept. His stress levels were over the top. He really didn't know how to relax or how to shut down. His nightmares haunted him and stole his rest.

What if Mae was right and he was a prime candidate for a heart attack?

No, he was barely 30. She couldn't think like that.

"I know someone who could help him and you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, since you are the one sleeping with him, you are also having your sleep disrupted. Felicity, talk to him about getting help. And meanwhile, you could look up imagery rehearsal treatment on the Internet, something I understand you are very good at."

She looked straight at her when Mae said, "Yes, I looked you up too. I understand that you are a very gifted woman with computers."

Felicity looked the older gray haired woman, and saw the wrinkles, the lines on her face that spoke of years of life, and she looked straight in her eyes when she said, "You've been busy, Mae. You say you're not a threat, so what exactly do  **you**  want?"

"Straight to the point. Why am I not surprised? It is a good thing Oliver didn't let that brain of yours get damaged because you are sharp. I'm sure that is one of the things that attracts him to you. And he is very attracted to you. Felicity, if you think he doesn't love you then you are wrong. You need to know what a lucky woman you are."

"Enough, flattery. Your point? Mae, just what do you want?"

"Nothing hard. Just some you're good at. Just some IT help. I'm sure you have noticed how terrible our network is here."

"Awful, rotten, horrid, and none of those words do it's terribleness justice. I'm sure you should just scrap it all and start over."

"Exactly, but, the truth is the hospital barely has the money for an upgrade, let alone paying for a out of town IT person to do the work. I need someone with the brains to upgrade us that maybe owes me a favor." Again she held up her hand and said, "I'm sorry to resort to that, but I did save your life."

Felicity answered her with silence.

Mae continued. "So, what would you charge us to upgrade our IT department and our network, while you are here?"

"I don't know?" Felicity had never seen that question coming. She was too used to working with really bad people and expected Mae to want something a lot worse than upgrading this hospital's awful network.

"And I also have a few suggestions on some volunteer work Oliver could do while you finish your recovery."

"What kind of volunteer work?"

"Working with troubled kids for one, kids on probation that need another outlet. I am married to a judge, a juvenile judge, who is trying to get a new program off the ground and needs a soccer coach."

"Oliver, a coach?"

"Why not? And my husband, Warren needs a strong coach that isn't scared of a high kid, and won't let a group of gang bangers run the show. Someone tough enough the kids will respect him and listen to him. And I think Oliver could make a real difference with some of them. We have some poor neighborhoods here, and maybe, just maybe, he could help some of our teens turn the corner. Teach them how to run and chase a ball as an outlet, insert of running from the cops after they robbed a convenience store."

"Why would they play if they are gang bangers?" She wondered what Oliver would think of this idea.

"Terms of their probation. Warren will give them a choice. Either play or go to jail. We have the most of the team already. We just can't keep a coach. These kids didn't come from Sunday school if you get my meaning. And I think it would help Oliver to make a difference. He seems like a man that needs to make a difference."

Relief flooded her that this was all Mae wanted, but she still she was unsure. She needed to do a little background work on Mae, and her husband. "Can I think about it? Talk to Oliver? Maybe have lunch in a few days and discuss it with you and your husband?"

"But, of course. Just let me know and good luck to both of you. And Felicity, I mean it, this is not a threat. Oliver just reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago, someone I didn't help when I knew he had problems. I ignored his problems, thinking they would do away. I really regretted that decision later." Mae turned her head away, then said, "I really do just want to help him and you. Think about it, talk about it, but remember if you decide to run, make sure you continue your respiratory therapy. You won't fully recover if you don't."

Felicity just stood there opened mouthed, as Mae turned and walked out the door. What was Oliver going to say to this? And how would she tell him that Mae knew who he was, or rather thought she did? She got that Mae had Googled him. Oliver was famous, and she would have to delete the entire internet to clean up all the video and newspaper articles about him and the Arrow.

And of course, he was going to want to run, that would be his first instinct. He would think he was keeping her safe, if they ran. Although, Oliver was very much a fight not a flight kind of man. But the idea of him working with troubled teens intrigued her. Mae was right, Oliver needed purpose, needed to make a difference. They needed to find a life somewhere, something to do with their lifes, other than travel. Maybe staying here for a while would be good for them both?

Damn, Mae, now what was she going to do?

Pulling her tablet out, she connected to the rotten internet connection and began her research on Mae and her husband's new program, which she found to be true. It looked like Warren had gotten a state grant to fund the program. Mae and Warren seemed to be fine upstanding citizens.

And then she found Mae and Warren's dead son, Phillip, who had returned from two tours in Afghanistan and died of what was written up in the local paper as an accidental shooting. But when she hacked the state crime lab, the report said the wound was listed as self inflicted to the head. Clearly, Mae's son had killed himself. And, Felicity bit her lip, she would bet Phillip had suffered from PTSD, and Mae had known he had nightmares.

#####OQ#####

She was a bit reserved when he arrived to pick her up, like something was bothering her. Totally out of character for her, and her silence puzzled him. He was walking on air himself. Happiness flowed though him like a drug, and he almost felt high.

It was a bright sunny day, and she was being discharged and was wonderfully almost well. And, they were going home. Not that the rental was home, but it was the only home they currently had, and he had started to figure out that Felicity was home to him. It didn't matter where he was, as long she was with him. She was his light.

He had loaded the car with her few clothes and what flowers were still surviving after all these weeks. Felicity had already given her balloons to several sick children she had found on another floor, which he thought had been very thoughtful on her part, but when wasn't his Felicity thoughtful and giving?

"Are you ready to go?"

But then she turned on him and said loudly, "I have NO shoes. Oliver, honestly you forgot to bring me any shoes? I guess I should be grateful you brought my panties and bra. Really, you are such a guy sometimes."

"Well I am a guy you know?"

"Oliver, you do remember I came in here in a one piece, which I will point out is totally ruined as in they cut it off of me, bathing suit? And I was wearing NO SHOES, Oliver, none, not even flip-flops for shoes, no shoes, zero, zip. All I have are these pink slippers, which let me point out doesn't match this flowered sundress at all. And don't you dare smile." She pointed a finger at him.

It was all he could do not to laugh, let alone smile but he pressed his lips together. His Felicity not only without heels but without anything type of footwear at all, except the Hello Kitty slippers, and it was totally his fault. Sighing, he stuffed his hands in his pants' pockets and bit his lip, then shrugged and pulled his hands from his pockets and held out his arms while he said, "I'll just carry you. Problem solved."

"That hardly solves the problem, Oliver." The expression, she gave him was pained.

"Yes, it does. I'll put you in the car and carry you into the house. I like carrying you anyway." He gave her his best charming smile.

"Didn't I tell you not to smile. So you can stop it with that smile, right now. You're not as charming as you think you are at this moment."

But he could tell she was softening, so he tilted him head at her and said, "Then don't wear your slippers, and I will still carry you."

The nurse had arrived with the wheelchair and with a huge sigh and bare feet, Felicity climbed in. He handed her the tablet and her purse, grabbed the pink slippers, and they were out of there.

#####OQ#####

She had been quiet on the trip back to the rental, which again wasn't like her. When he pulled in the driveway, he looked her way, and she didn't meet his eyes, instead she looked away back toward the water. He could image she was thinking about the last time she had seen the ocean, about drowning in it. The feeling of helplessness, the last seconds of life, the pain in your chest, it was something you didn't just forget, ever.

"Hey," he reached and took her hand and laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. "Are you okay?"

"Maybe. I was just thinking."

"Me too. Look, do you want to leave here? I can pack us up, and we can be gone in nothing flat."

"Where would we go?" She turned and looked at him, meeting his eyes.

"Wherever you want. I'm not broke, Felicity. Walter has managed to get a lot of my trust money back. Okay, I'm not a billionaire, but I still have a lot of money. We can go to the Keys, the Grand Canyon, New York, Canada, hell, I'll take you to Paris if that is what you want. Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you are, Oliver, that's what I want. I just want to be with you for a long time." She squeezed his hand.

"I want that too, Felicity."

"So for right now, I really think I want to stay here." She swallowed hard, as she turned her head, looking at the water again and said, "Just for now could we stay here?"

"Really?" He was sure he looked puzzled, before he said.,"Well, sure, I think we can get the house another month if that is what you want. But only if you are sure?"

"What I'm sure of is I'm tired, Oliver. Let's go in the house." She pulled her hand away from his, and he released her.

"Okay, leave your stuff, and I'll come back for it in a minute." He opened the car door and jumped out. Walking to the other side of the car, he lifted her and carried her across the sand and up the porch steps.

He set her down on the porch and unlocked the door. She started to go in, but he pulled her back into his arms and picked her back up.

"What are you doing, Oliver? I can walk now."

"Wait, Felicity, I . . . have some thing I want to ask you."

"What, Oliver." She was looking him in the eye.

He swallowed hard and said, "Someday, not right now, but someday, can I really carry you over the threshold?" Then he pressed his lips tightly together, thinking he had just sounded like a complete fool.

She looked perplexed. Then said, "Oh, OH. Really, Oliver? Are you asking what I think you are asking? You know you confuse me sometimes? You are going to have to be more direct because if you are asking what I think you are then?"

"Stop, Felicity. Yes, right. Clearer. I can be clearer. Wait, I know I'm moving too fast. I don't mean today, not now but later. However later you want. I mean after I get my head on straight, better, later. Heaven help me, I am beginning to sound like you." He swallowed hard then said, "Felicity, will you, will you marry me?"

"Awe, you are so cute when you babble." And she leaned into his mouth and kissed him hard.

He broke the kiss. "Wait, was that a yes?" He suddenly realized he was holding his breath.

"Yes, Oliver, that was a yes."

And he released his breathe and kissed her soundly and carried her into the house, with his brain on replay. SHE HAD SAID YES. He had to call John.

#####OQ#####

Thoughts? Reviews?

And to anyone that has been with this story a long time. Now you know why Felicity had to drown, had to be sick. So Oliver and Felicity could find a life with each other. So Oliver could have his come to realize moment, to realize he couldn't live without her. So they could have a place to start a life. A reason to get up in the morning. Sorry, they can't be aimless forever and just have sex. I always have a reason for the things I write. Thanks for the read.


	10. Read it and you will know.

Chapter 10

She lay draped over his chest, and he absorbed her heat, sucked Felicity's warmth into his body. And for the first time in weeks, the cold melted from his limbs and the heat entered his bones.

Jesus, he loved the heat and her.

The day had passed with her napping, him cooking them dinner and eating, with little words. Both of them didn't want to talk. So they didn't.

And, when she wasn't napping, she'd been quiet, engrossed totally in her tablet, ignoring him, and he hadn't pressed her to talk.

He needed the quiet sometimes.

In the end of his time on the island, he’d spent enough time alone when he returned, the people, the voices, the noise, all of it hurt his head. Lord knew, it was one reason he'd returned to the foundry, why he’d built the lair since no one talked to him there.

Also, they'd been through a rough time lately, with their friendship taking a hard hit, one they’d both been a party in undermining, her fault and his fault too. Both of them keeping secrets from the other and were still doing it. Like today when he’d asked her if something bothered her, and she'd said, no, but he hadn’t believed her, even if he'd let it pass.

Yet memories of keeping Ray's suit a secret from him, along with her relationship with Ray crossed his mind. He'd said she didn't owe him an explanation, but stabbing him in the heart would have been easier then watching her be with RAY. He wanted to kill Ray, knowing she'd slept with the man, even though he knew it was his fault since he'd pushed her away.

But she’d hidden the suit and her relationship with Ray.

He hated that, and those hidden secrets made him wondered what else she’d kept from him, not that he wasn't keeping plenty from her. His mind spun like a hamster on a wheel,as he considered the possibilities.

So, after dinner, when she'd turned back to her tablet, he'd gone out and ran on the beach in an attempt to clear his head. Not that it'd worked, but the exercise made him feel better.

Running he could control. And, he couldn't control either of their lies or secrets and God knew, he needed to tell her about him giving Merlin the league.

After his shower, she'd tried to entice him, more than once. And yes, he wanted her, ached to take her, but Mae’d warned him to go easy in the beginning. Mae’d told him Felicity would get winded, get tired, and maybe they should give her a few more days to recover. So instead of sex, he'd pulled her to him and held her close and savored her, breathed in her scent and loved the fact, she was back with him, laying close to him, with her skin touching his.

Jesus, he loved her skin.

How long had he wanted to touch her skin? 

Too long, was his answer.

Still, he couldn't believe, she’d agreed to marry him. His mind worried the point to death, like a child’s tongue worried a loose tooth, as they lay in the bed together. He wanted to put a ring on her finger. Never in his life had he wanted to lay claim on any woman. He’d never wanted to put his mark on any women's hand.

Never the type to commit; now he wanted to show the world she was his. The animal in him wanted to beat his chest and tell everyone she was his. Yes, he needed exactly that. He needed Felicity to be his.

Not that he understood that need. But all he knew was his need was real, too real some days and it scared him he had something important to lose. And during most of his adult life, people had taken what was important from him. The damn ocean had almost taken her.

So, as they lay there with her being quiet, he wondered if she was having second thoughts, while the worry nagged at him.

Had he rushed her?

Had she meant it?

Did she still want to marry him? Had she changed her mind?

She belonged to him. He needed her to belong to him.

No, she couldn't change her mind.

His total possessiveness surprised him. He’d never been the possessive or the jealous type. No, he’d never cared about his sex partners. They were one night stands. He didn't care if they slept with other men or went home with someone else. Even Laurel, who’d he’d thought he loved couldn't compare to Felicity.

What had he done the instant Laurel wanted him to commit to her? He’d cheated on her with Sara. But he couldn't imagination cheating on Felicity, and for the first time ever, he wanted to commit but only to Felicity.

He’d thought he’d loved Laurel, and he did as someone he’d known all his life. But he knew now the love he’d had with Laurel wasn’t the lasting, get married kind of love. And during those early island days, and the later days, he'd used her picture as a crutch, as his hope of going back to the easy life he’d lived before his life had spiraled out of control.

But loving Felicity was different. She wasn't his crutch or his hope, she was his life, his light, the very breath in his chest, and his everything.

He'd first noted his possessiveness when he’d seen her with Barry and later with Ray, but he’d known he couldn't have her and forced himself to back off. It’d been hard, more than hard. But he’d made a choice, a terrible choice that’d wasted no time in eating him alive, but still he’d made a damn choice.

Ray pulled the Cave Man straight out of his soul. Poor Ray had never known how close he’d come to beating him down and taking her from him. How much, he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his cave/lair and never let her go. And it’d taken all his will power to stop himself, and Ray never realized how hard he’d restrained himself, or what a short lease he’d kept the demon called jealously on. But, he didn't want to think about Ray, who was dead as far as he knew.

No, now he’d chosen her, she belonged to him. She was his, only his, and he savored her head laid warm on his chest but again her small hand moved south.

“Stop. You’re killing me here.”

"But I want to make love, Oliver. It's been weeks now." Her hand returned to rubbing his chest, and he caught it, stilling it, before she weakened his resolve, but he found himself toying with her ring finger before his hand stilled. 

He wondered if Thea knew if his father's mother's ring, his grandmother's ring was in a vault somewhere. His mother never liked the old setting, and had never worn it. His mother had never worn the ring and Felicity would like that, and the ring was a half carat, a suitable ring for her.

She blew against his chest, and he sighed deeply, his resolve weakening. His body wanted her desperately. It’d been weeks now, and he’d already figured out he was addicted to her body, in truth he was addicted to her touch enough it scared him.

"Sex’s wonderful with you, Felicity, but stop it. Don't rub. You're making me ache for you."

"What if I don't want to?" She blew her hot breath across his chest again and his dick thickened, and he fought for control.

She tempted him and he knew how easily he could be swept away by her body, her touch. How’d she do that to him? He could see her naked, or even the thought of her naked, and he got throbbing hard, and he wanted to bury himself in her warmth and make her scream his name while they both came. He liked it when she screamed his name. No, he didn't like it, hell no, he loved it.

But she was still weak. He’d wait. The last thing he wanted was her sick again.

So what if waiting wasn't easy?

Stroking her hand with his thumb, he captured her hand and said, "No, you have to stop. Look, I want to too, believe me. But, what’s another couple more days? I waited three exceeding long years to have you. I’ve ached for you daily during most of last few years, which means a few more days is nothing, trust me, and I want to wait until you're better. Wait," his tone darkened. "I’ll make it up to you. Trust me?"

"Promises, promises, Oliver. Okay, we’ll just lay here. You hold me. At least I can touch you. I’ve wanted to touch you a long time too."

She yawned broadly and rubbed her eyes. "I swear you walked around shirtless all the time to torment me. And now all you want to do is hold me.” Such a sweet smile with the words, “I know you can do better than that, I’ve been there and done that now."

“And I’ll do it again but later."

He smiled since, yes, he knew sometimes he’d trained hard in front of her to show off. He’d worked the salmon ladder simply because he wanted her to see him, to appreciate his body. Even though he’d known he couldn’t have her, a part of him still ached for her to want him the way he’d wanted her.

"Felicity, you're the only one I’ve ever wanted to hold."

"What you didn't like to cuddle your other lovers, Oliver?"

He grinned, savoring that yes, she was his lover now.

And she’d be his last and only lover as far as he was concerned.

But he frowned. "What I remember is you thought the word 'lover' was creepy. Have you changed your mind now?"

"Well that lover wasn't you. I guess it's not creepy after all. I like that you're my lover, though I know you’ve had lots of lovers. Not that it matters to me you’ve slept with almost every woman you’ve ever met. How many on the island alone?"

"Felicity. Stop, I'm not having this ex-lover discussion with you. And, no, I didn't have lots of lovers when it came to sex. I had sex with them. I didn't sleep with most of them. I couldn't. I was the get up and leave kind of guy. I'll call you tomorrow, kind of guy."

"But I bet you never called?"

He looked upward for strength since talking about ex-lovers equaled a terrible idea. Remembering all his other sex partners was as appealing as thinking about her other lovers.

And she’d called them her lovers.

He shut that thought off cold knowing the only reason she’d slept with Ray because he hadn't stepped up.

She'd have come willingly to his bed if he given her any sign he wanted her. But foolishly, he’d pushed her away, and he’d paid for it by watching another man touch her, while knowing she slept in another man’s bed because he hadn't slept with her himself.

A stupid decision, he’d bitterly regretted.

How utterly stupid could he be to allow Ray take her to his bed? How could he push her away and let that happen? His chest tightened and his head began to pound behind his left eye.

Why had he let Ray touch her? She was mine, he thought possessively. 

"Why’s your heart racing, Oliver? You’re tensing up. What are you thinking about?"

He pushed his stupidity down and attempted to calm down. "My poor misguided youth. But I love it when you with me. I love cuddling with you and the way you smell. I was a fool when I was younger. Rest, Felicity, get better. I can’t wait to do more than cuddle. Believe me."

"Oliver, I'm better, but if you're sure?" She yawned again and snuggled closer.

He smiled.

She’d fought him a little bit, but she was exhausted. It’d been a long day. He could tell she was dropping off to sleep. Being sick had stolen her strength, not that she’d been physically strong to begin with, not saying she was weak or that he wanted her to be stronger, for she had an inner strength, and he was strong enough for the both of them.

Damn he was tired too. Exhausted, he found sleep overpowering him. But worry nibbled at his brain, and no matter how much he loved her touching him, he needed to move her away from him while he slept. He needed to warn her about his dream. By not warning her, he ask for another “accident.”

Only this time it wouldn't be an accident. No, if he didn't tell her, and he hurt her it'd be his fault. But he didn't want to tell her. How could he tell her? Yet, he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her because his dream embarrassed him.

He swallowed hard. "Felicity, you awake?"

"Hmm? Kind of. Oliver, why are you tensing up again?"

"I'm not."

"Don't lie to me. What are you stressing over, now?"

He wanted to let her sleep, and he wanted to drift away with her, laying on his chest and savor the peacefulness she brought him. Jesus, her body was right against his, but he needed to man up and tell her about the damn dream.

Unfortunately, ignoring the dream wasn't going to make the nightmare go away. He knew from years of nightmares this dream would only go away when another one took its place, and that was how it worked.

But he could hurt her, could lash out and injure her and never know until it was too late. He'd never forgive himself, if he hurt her while he dreamed.

"Felicity, listen to me. You need to promise me if I have a nightmare, you won’t touch me."

"What? Not touch you?" She barely lifted her head, but he pulled her blonde head back down. Cupping her head easily with his large hand, he held her against his chest.

“This will be easier if you don't look at me.”

“Okay.”

"Promise me. Felicity, whatever you do, don't try to wake me up. Don't even come into my personal space, EVER." He said the words with total convention. "I want you to promise me if I’m dream you’ll get far away from me. And, whatever you do, don't touch me while I'm dreaming."

She didn't fight him, instead, she allowed him to hold her head against his chest and laced her fingers with his and moved both their hands over his racing heart. "Why, Oliver?"

"Because I might actually hurt you, if you do.” He hesitated and swallowed hard. “When I first wake up, I can't tell reality from dream, and I don't want to hurt you! Don't touch me, Felicity."

"I don't understand. We've slept together for a while now, and you’ve never hurt me. Why is now different? Let me up, Oliver."

"No, I can't do this if you look at me." His fingers contracted, as he held her against his chest.

She stilled. "Okay, explain."

He waited, biting his lip.

“I’m waiting.”

“Give me a second.”

Silence answered him. "Felicity, remember I told I’d drowned?"

"Yes, you told me you’d tell me later. Is it later? Because normally when you say later, you usually mean 'never'. So, you’re telling it's truly later? I’d like it to be later."

He smiled, since as usual, her words made him smile.

How did she do that to him? He'd never understand it, but he adored what she did to him. Yes, she made him happy, and he had problems being happy, which meant, every time she made him happy, she'd given him a gift.

"Yes, I guess it is. You know I spent some time with bad people?"

"I know that."

"Well drowning a person is an excellent way to extract information. But it is a terrible thing to do to someone . . . to drown them. And they. . ." He stopped and took a breath. "I broke and I told them what they wanted to know. I didn't want to, but they forced me to tell them, but that doesn't mean I feel good about it. I’m strong. I thought I could handle it, outlast them, but in the end, I couldn't. I tried. I know you don't understand but . . . I . . ." And he need another deep breath to continue. "Regardless, now the dream’s there every time I close my eyes. I want the dream to stop, but I can't escape it, can't make it stop."

"Who drowned you?" Her voice though small sounded deadly and left no room in his imagination of what she wanted to do to them.

Clearly, she’d kill for him and to a guy like him that mean a lot.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is since your accident, I'm dreaming about them, and . . ." He hesitated. "It's not safe for you to touch me when I do."

"Are they hurting you?"

He didn't want to answer her, but the words slipped out. "Yes, and I'm fighting them. Felicity, I mean it, stay away from me if I dream. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you."

She pulled her trapped hand out of his and squeezed his fingers as she went. Patting him on the chest, she said, "But what if I'm asleep?"

"I don't know. I think I should sleep in the other room until this passes."

"Passes, truly. You make it sound this this dream is going to die. Exactly when do you think this dream will pass?"

"Soon I hope. But what I know it is not safe for you to be near me if I dream."

"How long have you been dreaming this, Oliver? How many days? "

He didn't answer.

"Tell me." She reached and squeezed his hand.

"More than once."

"You're evading the question." Her tone intense and her thumb caressed his hand.

He turned his head away and shut his eyes. "Okay you're right."

"And you're still evading. Answer me, Oliver. How long? Every night? Once a week? What?"

He couldn't tell her it was every time he shut his eyes for over four hours but he had to say something. "For the last few weeks, and I'm afraid that now that you're home, I'll hurt you in my sleep. Don't touch me, Felicity. Promise me, you'll stay far away from me."

"Oliver, I don't believe you'll hurt me."

"I'd never hurt you if I'm awake, but I could hurt you when I'm asleep. I mean it. Stay away, if I'm dreaming. Don't try to wake me up, don't touch me, and I'm not joking. I’ll react and I'm fighting for my life in the dream."

"Okay, I won’t touch you. Now, shh . . . go to sleep, and it'll be okay."

"What if I don't believe you?"

"Then pretend, for you're not getting out of my bed. And you'd better not. I'm warning you I'll be mad as hell if you get out of my bed. Now I'm tired. You’re tired so, let me go, and you can hold me first."

He released her and she turned, pressing her back against his chest and her bottom against his dick, and he gritted his teeth, telling himself not to get hard. But oh, how he wanted to.

Pulling her closer into his arms, he realized the way they fit together was special, the way they spooned skin against skin. God, he loved her skin, and he’d never been the cuddling type, EVER. He enjoyed his pleasure, but he didn't touch the woman after the sex was done. He’d always gotten up, dressed and left and if he was too drunk to leave he’d moved away, turned his back and slept on the other side of the bed. Yet, he couldn't turn away from Felicity. 

Nor did he want to.

MINE. The word sounded in my mind. He'd ached for her such a long time and now all he wanted was to hold her, to absorb her, to pull her against him, skin against skin as he touched her. She belonged to him.

Her small frame fit his arms perfectly, and they interlocked like puzzle pieces. She'd turn, and he'd follow, or he'd turn, and she'd snuggle against his broad scarred back, making him feel good, feel content, as she pressed her warm body against his.

He didn't deserve the way she made him feel. But he couldn't shut her off or move away from her. Her body molded snuggly against his, fitting like a piece of a puzzle. 

But what'd happen when the dream came? What if he hurt her?

Jesus, he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her. 

"Stop it, Oliver. You're not going to hurt me. Can't you enjoy the way we feel? I love your skin against me. We fit together nicely." And she yawned.

How could she know what he was thinking? But she knew him well.

"I know we do and I love it but I could still hurt you."

"Stop worrying. We'll work it out. Sleep, you need the rest."

"Promise me you'll stay away from me. Promise, you won't wake me. I'll go to sleep if you promise you’ll NOT touch me."

"Fine then, I promise." She patted his hand and laced her fingers with his.

Past tired, he drowned in exhaustion, and he couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself from sleeping. Loving the way she smelled of vanilla and flowers, he inhaled her scent. Jesus, she grounded him, centered him, and he shut his eyes and slept.

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for the read and any review you leave. Until next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you will tell me what you think.


	11. Read it.

Chapter 11

#####OQ#####

Her eyes snapped open to find the room dark. What woke her up?

She listened but heard nothing out of the ordinary, only the distance sound of the waves crashing against shoreline. Glancing at the clock, she read 4:10 a.m., as a small whimper broke the silence.

Lying still, she listened and the sound came again. A small painful, hard noise that hurt her ears.

“Oliver?” 

“STOP. DAMN YOU. NO.”

Oliver’s strong bitter voice broke the dark and she realized he was dreaming. The small, painful sound came again, and again, and yes, her strong man had whimpered.

Frack what were they doing to him?  

Mae’s words about his nightmares came back haunting her.

In his sleep, he turned his body away from her, moved as far as he could on the other side of the bed, and she wanted, no needed to pull him into her arms, shake him awake and soothe him.

The terrible sound came again, and she ached to comfort him, but she’d promised not to touch him and not to wake him. 

Climbing, slowly from their bed she quietly, curled up in the chair by the desk. If she was going help him, she needed to figure out what demons he fought.

And how bad could it be? He normally jerked awake chest heaving and wild eyed. But he recovered and was fine in the morning.

Now she watched him, she knew Oliver had reached REM sleep, since his eye moved rapidly behind his eye lids. His body still, but the sounds he made broke her heart. And his body language said he was in terrible distress.

Someone had to be hurting him in the dream.

His body tense, with his arms pulled tightly against his chest, his muscles bugling, and his hands fisted.

“NO!”

“STOP! NOT AGAIN.”

Pure panic made his voice intense and heartbreaking.

What the frack were they doing to him?

She watched as the dream continued and he thrashed around on the bed moaning. God, she thought, someone was torturing him in his dream.

He whimpered louder now, drawing great gulps of air.

What could make her strong Oliver whimper? 

How could someone do that to him, reduce him to whimpering? And his contorted face screamed he was in pain.

Anger bubbled up in her. How could anyone torture him?

He’d endured, survived so much. He still wouldn't talk about all the scars and she understood why since he had demons like this to haunt him.

Frack had her drowning caused this nightmare? She bit her lip to try to stop the tears from falling.

No wonder, he hardly talked about his scars, the inside scars were a lot worse than the other ones. They were terrible scars caused by terrible people.

Mae's words haunted her. “Stress kills.” And she wondered how hard his heart pounded right now, how hard it raced from the dream, from the scars that didn't show.

He cried out again making her heart hurt. "I don’t know anything else. STOP. DAMN YOU! I swear I’ll kill you all if you drown me again and bring me back. NO MORE."

Shock filled her, plain shock as she realized he’d said the words "again" and “bring me back.”

How could anyone drown someone more than once and then bring them back?

She knew firsthand drowning hurt. A horrific experience that she’d make sure she never repeated even if that meant she’d never got in water deeper than a bathtub ever again.

But, how could someone do that to another human being? How could they torture a living, breathing person like that?

She hoped he’d gotten loose and killed them, killed them all.

Fighting tears, she realized her drowning must have triggered his nightmare, and she bit her lip to stop her tears from falling.

Not that it worked.

Her tears fell anyway, streamed down her face, as he suffered and the dream when on and on.

No one had saved him, and his tormentors hadn't stopped until they were sure he didn't know anything else. No, those men continued to hurt him, repeatedly drowned him over and over and no one had stopped them.

NO MORE! DAMN YOU LET ME DIE." His tone desperate and panicked now, she realized her strong Oliver had been unnerved, broken, and it showed in his voice.

Twisting and turning on the bed, he was sweating engulfed in real terror, and the men in his head kept drowning him, over and over.

How horrendous could they be? How could they do this to him? No wonder he’d become a murder, the hard, cold blooded killer she’d first met all those years ago.

Looking at the clock, she noted the time to be 4:20. Ten long minutes had pasted since he woke her. She knew from sleeping with him these last months, he revived real events in his dreams. Now, the question was how long did they torture him? How long would this hell dream last?

The dream became more intense, he thrashed and moaned and became deadly still and his face calmed, his body limp now.

Exhaling sharply, she dashed her tears away and hoped the dream was over. But he inhaled a ragged breathe, gagged and said bitterly, "Don't revive me. Don't bring me back this time. Damn you, finish the job."

And the battle resumed. But her stomach sickened as she watched him struggle.

Without warning, he sat straight up, his eyes snapped open, staring blankly. Fighting the covers, he screamed and he kept screaming for a long moment, clearly in intense pain.

Time moved slowly as he panted. Throwing the bedding back, he jumped from the bed and flew to the bathroom and even though he’d slammed the bathroom door, she listened to him vomit, repeatedly.

Looking, at the clock that read 4:42, she wanted to cry again, and she couldn't stop her brain from wondering how many times someone could drown you, or almost drown you in about 30 minutes?

Jesus, she refused to let herself think about the answer to her question as her brain started to do the math and when the answer popped up, it appalled her.

Crawling back into the bed, she wiped her face with the sheet and waited for his return, and he was not in any hurry to crawl back into bed.

He never turned the bathroom light on, but the water turn on and back off and he spit. Realizing he’d brushed his teeth, she waited for him to come out.

She begun to think he wasn’t going to come back to bed as he took forever, and she was sure he did it on purpose, probably hoping she’d fall back asleep before he returned to bed, probably hoping he wouldn't have to face her after he’d been sick, after the dream had been intense enough it’d made him vomit.

Finally, he opened the door and padded soundlessly back to the bed, and she waited for him to settle. "I hope you remembered to put the cap back on the toothpaste. You know I hate when you leave the cap off."

Laughter erupted from his chest, along with the words, “You’re too much. You know that?” He settled back in the bed and threw his legs over the covers. "Seriously, Felicity, that's the first thing you say to me? That I’d better have put the cap back on the toothpaste? Maybe, I'm not insane one here?"

But he gave a small laugh, as she’d hoped he would, and she rolled toward him, reaching out for him, and he pulled her into his arms.

“You okay?”

Willingly, she snuggled into his chest. "Yeah, I am. And I love your broad chest. You’ve been teasing me with your bare chest for years. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?"

She could tell he was willing to play along, anything not to address the dream. "Like you didn't wear those dresses with the large holes on purpose?"

"The holes weren't that large."

"Right, sure they were tiny holes, showing all that skin. Admit it, you wanted me to know you didn't have a bra on, and you were punishing me for walking away from you."

"I wasn't punishing you. That's the style now." She ran her hands over his hard pecs.

"Whatever. Regardless, I had a love, hate relationship with your holey dresses. I loved your skin, but I hated I couldn't touch you. And the more you wore them, the more I ached to touch you and those holes teased me."

She smiled smugly and ran her fingertip over his lips, tracing them. "Good, you needed that Mr. salmon ladder! You knew how sexy you are, and you knew I watched you exercise, and you were showing off and tempting me. But regardless, back to the toothpaste, you’ve heard of germs? Right?"

He gave small chuckle and adjusted the covers. "Yes, Felicity, I put the cap on. You’re silly, sometimes you know that?"

“Admit it, you love that about me.” She moved closer to him, draping her body over his.

“I do.” His voice turned dark and unsure. "But I didn't hurt you? You didn't touch me? You're safe?"

He sounded lost and her heart ached.

"Yes, you woke me in the beginning. I'm, okay. And I kept my promise, my distance."

"But you saw didn't you?" Shame edged the tone in his voice.

"Yes, I did, but it wasn't as bad as you think." Okay, she lied. It had been horrible to watch, and she couldn't even imagine, didn't want to imagine, what it would be like to experience the terror from inside his mind, to relive that.

"Felicity, you're a bad liar." He reached and pulled her over on top of his chest and absentmindedly rubbed circles on her bare back.

"Okay, I am. But, Oliver, maybe you need to talk about the dream. I've been reading about this therapy for the kind of dreams you have, and if you can tell me what happened, it will help. Bring the dream into the light. Let me help. Maybe we can banish the dream together."

"I can't talk about it. I can't. Besides I don't want you to know. If you knew then. . ."

"What, Oliver?"

"Nothing, Forget I said anything."

"You can talk about anything with me."

"NO." He’d withdrawn from her, pulled away. He might be lying under her, but he’d withdrawn solidly back into his shell.

"Oliver, you need to try. I’ll still love you, no matter what. Believe me, no matter what you have experienced or done. Stop thinking I won’t love you for it."

"You don't understand."

"Then help me understand."

"I can't, Felicity. Don’t push me." His voice gruff, he turned his head away.

"No, I won't. Look at me, Oliver." She sat and reached out and caught his chin and turned his head back to her.

Forcing him to look at her, she gave him a small smile and even in the dark room she could see his eyes. "Frack, you need to understand I love the now you. The man I know and love."

Releasing his face, she made quotation marks with her fingers. "Get it I love the now YOU." She poked him in the chest with her pointer finger. "And you survive to be here now with me. And I need you to survive this and be with me. This means you need to sleep more, get more rest, and to do that you have to control your dreams."

"Don't you think I’ve tried." His words bitter.

"You haven't tried talking about them. Tell me just one thing. Just one thing." She laid her hand on his chest and found his heart racing, thundering in his chest.

"Not now, please, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you." He broke her gaze, and she laid back down on his chest, remembering it was easier on him if he didn't look at her.

"Shh. I'm not. I'm your partner remember? Together we can defeat this. Tell me one thing. A yes or no question." Stroking his scar that lay beside his tattoo, she listened to his heart slow.

"Okay. One." But his voice was unsure.

"Were your arms tied?"

“Yes.”

“Rope or chains?”

"Chains behind my back."

"You couldn't escape?" His heart rate escalated beneath her ear.

"No. And that’s three questions. Look, Felicity, I can’t stay in the bed. I NEED to get up and go run or DO something." He bodily moved her away from him and sat up in the bed.

"Okay, you need exercise. Well lucky you, I’d love to help. Come here, follow along." In smooth movements, she sat up, pulled off her nightgown and followed with her panties, throwing them on the floor.

And she pushed on his chest trying to push him back down.

"No, you’re not ready. We can’t." He tried to pull away, but she clung to him, rubbed her naked body against him.

"Let me love you. Want you, Oliver. And, you turn me on. No matter what nightmares you have, believe me, you turn me on. Now let's both forget about your dream and think about us."

Her hand reached and found his and she showed hand how to find her bare skin.

He touched but his mind was still scrambled. "I don't know if I can. I’m in my head right now. We should wait. I don't want you to get sick again."

"No, it's okay. Let me help you. We'll stop, if I can't handle it. I’ll let you know.”

“Promise? I don’t want to pressure you.” But his hand swept her core and she arched into his touch.

“Yes, let me touch you." And she moved into his personal space, rubbing her naked body against his.

Reaching, she laced her fingers with his and rubbed the palms of his hands with her thumbs.

She released him and softly, gently put her lips on his neck, trying to heal him, to soothe him with her lips and her hands, while dragging her hair against his chest, trying to prove to him he deserved her love and trying to make him forget the dream.

She knew, the second he gave in, the moment he lay back on the bed and sighed deeply.

And she loved it and him.

She sucked the sound right into her soul and savored it, pulling it close.

Kissing his neck, she drug herself down his body, and kissed her way down his chest, slowly, taking time with his hard nipples, taking time to make him breathe hard, as she suckled and nipped his nipples.

She’d noted he liked that, meaning she spent a little extra time there until his nibble were rigidly hard and he was panting and thrusting his hips.

And she repeatedly, teased him with her hair.

She spent the extra time making his nipples hard and finally got a moan out of him. “Think about me. Embrace the pleasure.”

His hard chest was solid as steel beneath her hands and mouth.

And yes, she waited, took her time and made sure he moaned, hoping to steal his self- control before she moved on.

"Oh, yes I love your mouth on me, Felicity." His hands were roaming stealing her control as she moved down his stomach, kissing and nipping, dragging her hair against his chest as she teased him.

"Yes, again, say my name," she urged him, while she put her hot mouth on his hard skin.

"Fe. .li . .ci . .ty. YES!"

His hands made her crazy, and she grabbed them and pressed them against the headboard. "This is my fantasy. Hold on. I want you to hold on.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“YES, you can. I’m giving you the control.”

Her hands reinforced him holding onto the head board.

“Now you need to hold on as long as you can. You control how long. You're not the only one who’s been thinking, you know? Didn't I warn you I was going to put my mouth on you? Don’t you want me to put my mouth on you? Talk to me."

“You know I do.” His chest heaved now as he held on to the headboard.

“Hold on tight, Oliver.”

 And with her hot mouth, she made him intake his breath deeply, a deep and needy sound.

"Yes, need it." She urged him, and he groaned sharply.

"Wait, I need to touch you."

She ran her hands up his arms, reminding him to hold on. "Later, this is my turn, and yes, you can. Hold on. Take the pleasure. You let go and I'll stop. Remember you have the control."

He inhaled sharply, as her hot mouth moved lower. She tried to make him forget, trying to heal him with her hot mouth, her body, and her love.

Worrying the band of his boxers, she teased him. "Ask Oliver." Her fingers tormented him, though the material, rubbing him, as her tongue licked under the band of his boxers and his moan got louder, as her hand brushed his dick, teasing but not fulfilling.

"Felicity, you’re driving me crazy. I can't handle it. Your hair, your mouth, you’re killing me."

"Good, I want you to think about me. How this feels. Ask for it, Oliver and I'll do it. I'll give you what you need." She cupped him and he jumped and thrust. When she pulled his boxers down, he lifted his hips to help her. She slung them to the floor, and then her mouth hovered over him, and she blew on his skin, and he sucked in his breath, as she drug her hair across his leg.

His breath caught, ragged now. “God yes, Felicity, put your mouth on me. PLEASE. YES, YOUR MOUTH ON ME NOW."

She licked him first, but when she put her mouth on him, he thrust upward and groaned deeply. Taking him deep, she worked him, getting high from the sensation of her mouth on him. And she could tell she’d got to him.

Steel hard and pounding, she adored the way he tasted and used her mouth and hands in creative ways on him. Her hand gave him a slight twist as she worked him, before she reached to tweak his nipple, to pull and twist, as she blew his control.

With a loud groan, he released the bed frame and placed his large hands on her head. Urgently, he threaded his fingers through her hair, as he moaned deeply for her and thrust upward into her mouth.

And she loved it.

She looked up to meet his eyes and saw his pupils were blown. He had no control now, and he watched her with ragged need and pure lust, as she cupped him and worked her hot mouth on him.

Oh, yes, he was gone now. He tried to pull her away now even as his body sped up the pace. It was an awesome feeling, knowing she could do this to him, could steal his control like this and reduce him to pure feeling and lust.

"Stop, no more." He panted and thrust harder and she knew he struggled not to come as his balls tightened. "Inside you. NOW. Felicity, I need in you."

His large hands pulled her mouth from him, and he deftly flipped her over. His hand swiped her clit, moved over her core rubbing and circling, and now she groaned.

“Thank God, you’re wet.”

“And you’re huge. Take me.”

He nudged her core and entered her in one slow motion, giving her no time to adjust to him as he bottomed out and she found heaven.

“Frack, you feel beyond good.”

 She flexed her hips seeking friction.

"Don't move. Wait. Give me a second. I’m barely holding on here."

He pulled out, and both of them were already sweating.

"Not happening.” She pulled him to her, slammed her body up to greet him and his control snapped.

Lost now, she loved that he thrusted into her urgently, hard, his rhythm lost, and she had no choice but to let him set the pace.

“God, you feel good.’

“Don’t hold back. I need harder. I’ve have missed you. Oliver, I love what you do to me. Give me all of you."

"Felicity, I'm sorry. Can't wait." Skin slapped skin, and he panted, raced as his pace became desperate.

"That’s it. Don't hold back. Don't wait. Give me all of you. Deeper, Oliver. More."

Now he wasn't in control, and she loved it.

He pushed her legs up and changed the angle as he rose to his knees and lifted her ass and hit her perfect spot.

"Yes, Oliver, yes," she cried out, as he released her legs and covered her body with his, placing his lips on her neck, sucking. She screamed and reached to meet him, using her hands to pull him even closer, to bring him deeper as she contracted and pulsed around him.

"Yes, right there, Felicity. Oh, there. Good. I . . . love you."

"More." She met him stroke for stroke as greed rolled through her, and she climbed rapidly toward the peak again.

She wanted him closer, and he wanted closer too. He talked in her ear while his thumb found her core and she arched her back, trying to get closer.

"Come for me. I thought I’d never have this again. I love you, Felicity. Mine, you’re mine. I need you. You make me crazy. Say you’re mine. Only mine."

He desperately raced now, and even though she’d exploded once, she was back on fire, as he thrust into her.

"Yes, mine, Oliver. MINE." She screamed it. Violently exploding again, she came hard enough she saw stars, and she knew they’d joined, merged, gone to a place she could only go with him.

Intense now, he powered on and it was all she could do to hold on to him and enjoy the wonderful ride as he threw his head back and roared and planted himself deep as he buried his head in her neck and panted, while his body stroked her a few more times.

"Yes, good. Mine." His face buried into her neck, as he pulled her closer, while both of them gasped for air.

Can’t breathe.

She concentrated on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth and didn't panic, as he literally shuttered on top of her.

Wow, she’d made him shutter. She loved that she could do that to him.

She’d fist pump if she had any strength left.

He supported his weight on his elbows, making sure he didn't crush her, and she ran her hands down his back and kneaded his tight shoulders, while she fought to catch her breath.

"You alright? I hear you struggling." Worry laced his voice.

"I will . . . be in . . . a minute. Talking’s . . . hard."

"Damn it, I knew we should have waited. I should have waited. Sit up. Let me help you."

He rolled off her, and pushed her to sit up.

“I . . .”

"Shh, don’t try to talk. Remember in through your nose and out through your mouth. Breathe for me, Felicity, I love you. Just breathe. Damn I knew it was too soon."

"Shh, love you. . . . I . . . wanted to." She whispered as she struggled for air.

"Felicity, stop talking and focus on your breathing."

And she gasped a few more times. "It’s getting easier. But I want to lay down again."

"You sound better." He pulled her into his strong arms and cradled her head with his large hand, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder.

It took a few more minutes before she could say. "You need to believe that I love the now you, Oliver. And no matter what’s happened in your life, or what you’ve done to survive. I'm glad you’re still here with me now. Making love with me."

"Me too. But I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. You blow my mind and steal my control."

"I like it."

"Me too as long as I don't hurt you."

"More like I’ll hurt you. The question is am I better than running?"

He gave a small chuckle. "Felicity, touching you is way better than running. Now go to sleep. You need to rest."

Moving, he put some distance between them, but she pulled him back to her.

"Shh, stay with me. It's gone for the night. Think of me. Only me. And sleep." In the aftermath, she slept tangled up, exhausted in his arms, and he finally slept beside her.

######OQ######

Thanks for the read. Would love to hear from my readers.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers here.

Oliver came instantly awake, and he reached for her, but she was gone. Totally, unnerved for an second, he sat straight up and listened. Had he dreamed she was here? He had dreamed her presence other times. She was one of his few pleasant dreams. But, no, he smelled coffee. He was sure he smelled coffee and coffee equaled Felicity and a slight smile lit his face.

He glanced and saw her clothes lying on the floor and relief rushed through him, but also guilt filled him, since she had once again managed to leave his bed without him knowing. She was the first woman to get out of his bed in years without him knowing it. How did she do that? How did she make him sleep so hard that she could get out of his bed, and he would sleep on?

That was a very good question. But at least she was real, and she was better and here with him. The surf was rolling in the distance, and all the memories came rushing back. Together they were together, here in a small house on the gulf, trying to live real life together.

Rolling out of the bed, he heard the sea gulls. The sun shone through the white curtains, and as he snapped his head around and looked at the clock, and he realized it was after ten.

Wow, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept that many hours straight, but then she’d sexed him out about 5 a.m. Living with her was making him lax, careless and lazy, and he was sleeping too much, but he had to admit he felt good this morning, and it was her fault.

And, the sex with her blew his mind. And it wasn't just sex. He had sex with many women but that wasn't what he was doing with her. No, she was his lover and every time he had her, or rather she had him, he could feel that they were truly making love, that something within him changed, somehow he connected with her on a different level than any woman had had ever taken to bed.

That was another how does she do that to him thing?

And last night, he had been determined not to make love with her, yet, but from the second she put her hot mouth on him, he had lost total control. He couldn't have stopped if the entire league had attacked him. A silly grin erupted on his face for what a great memory. And a fulfillment of one of his fantasies and one of hers if he remembered right. How awesome was that?

And then she had trouble breathing, but she had recovered, but her spell had worried him. And now, they would wait a couple of days before they had made love again. He would just have to be sure not to let her put her naked body and hot mouth on him. Yes, last night had been wonderful, so awesome.

Well except for the damn dream. But, he pushed that thought away. Now the question was what was bothering her? Today she was going to tell him if he had to make her tell him. Whatever she was keeping from him, he was darn sure going to find out today.

He reached for his clothes and got dressed determined to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her.

#####OQ#####

Felicity sat sipping her coffee at the small table in the mini kitchen, wondering how to approach Oliver about what Mae had told her. When, the man of her thoughts ninja-ed up on her, making her jump and spill lukewarm coffee on herself and the table, when he said, "Morning," right by her ear.

"Gees, Oliver, could you make just a little noise?" She jumped up and grabbed a towel from the counter to mop up the mess. "I'm glad the coffee wasn't still hot and my tablet wasn't on the table or I’d have made a real mess."

"I'm sorry, I thought I was making noise when I walked across the floor." He flashed her a slight grin before he added, "Remember this isn't the ladies room. Do you want me to knock next time?"

"Are you trying to be funny?  Well it’s not working and I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything about you. Cross my heart."

A small shiver ran down her spine for she believed him, and she thought it was a good thing she loved him or that would be creepy, because he sounded rather like a stalker when he said things like that.

Passing her, he walked on his annoyingly silent feet across the kitchen floor and opened the fridge's door and announced, "We need to go to the store if we plan to stay here." Looking over the top of the door, he gave her an odd look and asked, "That is the plan, right? And we need to see if we can rent this place another month."

She swallowed and then nodded sharply.

Okay, Felicity, just tell him. What is it with us keeping secrets from each other?

But she couldn't spit the words out.

Not even when he gave her an opening with the question, "Is something wrong?" while he pulled eggs, meat, veggies and cheese out of the fridge and putt them onto the counter.

Instead she bit her lip and pushed up her glasses.

Shutting the fridge, she heard the worry in his voice when he turned his back to her and gripped the counter. "Felicity, what’s wrong? Are you upset about last night? . . . I'm sorry. I . . ."

"No, NO! I mean it's not the bad dream, though that’s terrible for you, that someone could do that to you, hurt you like that, drown you."

"Don't you dare pity me. I can't take pity, and I'm not guilt free. I've done things to people . . . bad things." He kept his back to her. His shoulders stiff and rigid.

Moving, she walked over to him and encircled his waist with her arms, and he flinched a little when she laid her cheek against his tense back. His stress rolled off him in waves, and Mae's words came back to haunt her. "When have I ever pitied you? More like I pitied the men you went after."

"Then what’s go on? What’s wrong? I feel like you’re keeping something from me. Did I rush you on the marriage thing? Maybe I shouldn't have asked." He  sighed deeply and his hands tightened on the countertop, his knuckles turning white.

"Stop, right there. Oliver, if you apologize for asking me to marry you, I'm going to throw something heavy at you again. Did you rush me? Come here." She reached for his hand and pulled on it, getting him to release the death grip he had on the counter.

Creating space between the counter and him, she moved into the small space and pressed herself against him, molding herself against him. He only gave a little space, just enough for her to fit her body snugly against his, while he looked into her eyes. "I'm not much of a catch you know? You're still sure you want to marry me?"

“You are such an idiot sometimes. Don’t you know how much I want to marry him. I thought you’d never ask or I was going to have to ask you. She wrapped her arms around his neck and said, "Oh, Oliver, of course, I'm sure. Come on, let's go right now."

"Where?" He blinked twice and gave her a puzzled look.

"To get married. I'll marry you right now, Oliver, today."

"I don't even have a ring for you yet. You can't marry me today." He gave her a frown, with a slow shake of his head.

Again, she caught his eyes before she said, "I don't need a ring. We'll go find a justice of the peace, and I will take the fear I won't marry you off the table once and for all. Then you can worry I will divorce you." His face fell and she rushed on to say, "Which I won't do. Oliver, listen, I never thought I would get married because I wanted you, and I thought I could never have you. So when I marry you, look into my eyes, Oliver, I marry you for life. There will be no escaping me, understand me? And I want a long life with you. So do you want to get married today?"

He kind of grinned at her, but his look said plainly, he didn't quite believe her, yet he said in a low husky voice, "No, I want you to have the wedding. I want you looking gorgeous in your wedding dress. I want John as my best man. Your mom should be there."

"Does she have to?" She gave him a grin and he smiled back.

"Yes, she does and Thea would kill me if I got married without her. I'll even let YOU invite Capt. Lance if that's what you want. And I want the rest of our friends there and everything else. The cake, the flowers, and the first dance. I just want to make sure I am not rushing you."

"I don't need any of it. I just need you. And are you rushing me? Seriously, Oliver, I waited for two years for you to ask me out, then almost another year for you to decide we could be together. Trust me, Oliver, you are not rushing anything. I thought I was going to have to ask you to marry me." Then she leaned in and gave him a hot kiss.

But when he broke the kiss, he looked darkly at her and then demanded, "Then what is wrong? I am trying to stop lying to you, but you have to stop keeping secrets from me. You're way too quiet, and you have been since we left the hospital. I know something is bothering you. If it not me asking you to marry me, then what is upsetting you? Mae didn't tell you that you were getting sick again did she?"

Suddenly she felt threatened by the small space, trapped between his broad chest and the counter, and she said, "No, of course, not. But let me out, Oliver," as she removed her arms from his neck, but he waited until she pushed against his chest before he stepped back, creating a small space between them. She could feel his anger simmering just under the surface, and it wasn't that she was afraid of him, but she was still respectful of his strength, and she had a feeling she about to make him really angry.

"The truth, Felicity. Tell me the truth. You're making me crazy here." His words were razor sharp and a demand.

And his tone irritated her. Really irritated her that he would demand answers from her, and she knew she was guilty of keeping something from him, but still she couldn't say the truth, so instead she attacked him. "You're a fine one to talk about keeping secrets. Want to talk about what happened at Nanda Parbat? What to talk about what caused all the anger you are suppressing right now? What did Ra's really do to you, Oliver? What did he do to you?"

"You haven't answered the question, and I'm not angry." His hands were back in his pockets again.

She pointed a finger at him while she said, "And you just side stepped my question and lied to me. Wow, are we both good at this or what?"

"Felicity! Just tell me what is wrong." He pulled his hands back out of his pockets.

She stepped around him and got a few steps further away from him before she turned and said, "You asked for it and you aren't going to like it. Yesterday when I was checking out of the hospital, Mae told me you have chronic PTSD, and you are too stressed, and you are going to die from a heart attack or a stroke if you don't get help. She told me I am still going to get to bury you. And it is totally freaking me out."

"Bury me? You're not going to bury me. And I don't have PTSD. That's from going to war, being a soldier. I don't have that, and Mae had no right saying that to you, upsetting you, worrying you. Why would she tell you that?" He was shaking his head denying it, with a look of total disbelief on his face.

"I've noted Mae is not always ethical, but I understand that you would never have listened to her so she told me. Drs. do that. They tell men's wives things about them, and I know we're not married, but she also told me we just haven't said the words in front of the preacher, though since I'm Jewish, we are going to have to discuss that. But, Oliver, you do, you really do have PTSD. And I'm afraid, Oliver, afraid for both of us."

"You have nothing to be afraid of, Felicity." He was trying to reassure her she knew that as he said, "We are safe now. No one is following us or after us. Ra's is gone. The league will leave us alone. I've made sure of it. And I won't let anything happen to you again. I promise to keep you safe this time."

She moved closer to him and reached out and clasped his hands before she said, "I know you will keep me safe but you're wrong. It's not the league or an enemy we can fight. It's you getting sick or dying on me. I never thought I could get really sick, but I did, and we couldn't stop me from getting sick. We are both mortal, Oliver. We can get sick, and we can die. And Mae told me if things didn't change then I was going to lose you. Oliver, I can't lose you again. I just got you, don't make me lose you again." Her voice was raising.

"You're not going to lose me."

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you." She released her hands from his and pointed a finger at him and said, "Where you living the same life as me the last year or so?"

She watched him look at the floor, and he stuck him hands back in his pockets. She knew he was withdrawing but she said, "The year where I either mourned you or was saying good bye to you over and over, never knowing if I was going to see you ever again. And I won't do that again. I can't. And it's just not fair that you are going to die on me."

"You're not making sense, Felicity. I'm not sick. I'm not going to die. I'm in the best shape of my life." He rocked back on his heels and gave her a slight smile.

She didn't smile back as she said, "It's not about being sick, Oliver. I told Mae the same thing, and she told me it's your level of stress. It's what's going on inside your body, that is going to kill you. I want you to get help. I want us to get help, so we'll get to grow old together. I need you to learn to control your PTSD."

"I don't have PTSD. I just have . . ." He pressed his lips together.

"What? Problems, Oliver? Issues? Nightmares? Stress overload? Panic attacks? Anger issues? Just what do you want to call what's going on in your head?"

His face looked suddenly stricken, and she pulled his hands out of his pockets and moved to put her arms around him. Laying her head against his chest, she listened to his pounding heart, then she said, "I love you, Oliver, all of you, but you need to get better. And you have PTSD and have had it for years. You had it really bad when I first met you, then you got better, as you got more secure around John and I, but now your time with Ra's has made it a lot worse again. What did he do to you?"

"I haven't been to war. I don't have that."

"The war is in your head, Oliver. PTSD is also caused by trauma, by the things you have experienced like the ship wreck, the island, all those things you survived that you won't talk about, Ra's, the league, and being tortured. It's the way your brain copes with all the bad stuff you have been through. It's why you have been trying to die for the last three years and probably before that."

She felt him turn his head and swallow hard.

"Oliver, John and I have joked about you having PTSD for years, but after living with you, I know it is true. And I had never really looked it up until yesterday. And it is so you and it explains so much. I wish I had looked it up years ago, we might have gotten together sooner. But for now I know it's reason you have nightmares and don't sleep, and that's another thing Mae said is killing you, the not sleeping."

"I'm sleeping a lot now. Almost too much."

"No, you're not sleeping too much. You don't sleep enough and so little sleep is hard on your body. Not sleeping takes a toll, and she's right the only time you really relax is after sex and even then sometimes it takes two times for you not to be so hard, I mean tense. I mean your muscles being tense, oh, me and my mouth. I need to explain this better."

"Frankly, Felicity, I need to tell you that I really love your mouth. But hey, stop worrying about me. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to live a long time, Wells told me, Felicity, he told me I live into my 80's. So you can stop worrying, I will be fine. So there's no need to stress about this."

She blushed from the mouth reference, but when he reached and tried to tip her face up to kiss her, she pushed him away with the words, "No, Oliver, you're trying to distract me from my point. I mean it. I don't care what Well's said, something has to change.”

“I’ve changed.”

“Yes you have but I don't want to be a widow before I even get a chance to marry you. And your dreams are hard on your body. You have to learn how to banish them and learn to sleep longer than three or four hours at a time."

"Felicity, I slept five hours straight last night. Five.” He held out his hands, fingers spread out. “The last time I did that I was unconscious, I’m getting better and you’re the reason. I’m sleeping too much now. I can't protect you when I sleep so much. You need to stop worrying, I'm fine, and I’ve lived with the dreams and just a little sleep for years. It will be fine."

"Don't you dare use that word when you talk to me about this." Pushing away from him, she took a few steps back and pointed her finger at him.

"What word?"

Slamming her hand against the counter top, she hissed the word, "FINE! I hate that word when it comes out of your mouth. It's your go to word when you committed to dying today.”

“It is not. That’s not true.”

“You’re wrong. One of the last things you told me before Ra's stabbed you in the chest and kicked you off that mountain was 'It will be FINE.' And let me tell you it WASN'T FINE.”

He refused to meet her eyes now.

“I mourned you for weeks, Oliver.  Jesus you hurt me. Damn Merlyn brought that bloody sword back to prove you were dead and I did the DNA test to prove it."

"We’ve been through this. I wasn't trying to make you think I died; I had no way to tell you I was alive. I had no cell phone service. I spent weeks in a cabin trying to heal enough to come home. And you were the reason I fought to stay alive. I wanted to come back to you."

"Yes, then what was the first thing you did? You came back and chose who? Merlyn!"

“I’ve explained that, repeatedly. I needed him.”

She knew now was not the time for this, he was still reeling from being told he had PTSD, but she couldn't stop her angry word. "And then our relationship was hardly FINE? Why couldn’t you choose me for once?”

“I . . .want to. I . . .”

“It was my turn. You’d finally admitted you loved me, but then you chose to work with Merlyn, to trust Merlyn and to not trust me. Damn you."

"I’m not doing this." He frowned deeply and put his hands up to stop her words.

But she couldn't stop herself. “Why wouldn’t you listen to me?” She turned and grabbed her coffee cup and threw it into the sink. “But you don’t have a problem do you. You don’t want to change. Damn right, we’re going to talk about this since nothing is FINE.”

"You really want to do this? FINE, no our relationship wasn't fine at all." His voice was dark and bitter, and he pointed his finger at her as he said, "because you slept with Ray."

"I can't believe you went there with me. Oliver, I refuse to feel guilty about Ray. You pushed me away. I wanted you, damn it, only you. But you pushed me away. You shut the door on US. You decided. Not me.”

“Felicity, please, stop.”

“Shut up, Oliver, I didn’t get a vote. You decided there wasn't going to be a us, ever. Ray’s your fault."

"I was protecting you, keeping you safe. I got you blown up just taking you to dinner. I didn't want to bury you like Sara. What did you want from me?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and said, "A lot more than leaving me alone. I warned you that I wasn't going to wait with you to die. I waited almost three years for you, Oliver. It was too long. I gave you plenty of chances to choose me. And it isn't like I haven't watched you sleep with almost every woman who has crossed your path for the last three years. So you deal with me sleeping with Ray."

His words were bitter. "I'm trying to, but damn him he touch what is MINE. Do you hear me, I hated that you were with him. I know it’s my fault you turned to him. I let you walk away in that alley after you told me you didn't want to be a woman I loved. And your words hurt more that Ra's sword. I wanted to run after you."

"But you didn't. You let me walk away." She looked at her feet now.

"Hey, I’m sorry.” He smoothed her face. “I was stupid, and I let you walk straight into Ray's arms. Hell, no, none of that was fine. But, I’ve chosen you, what do you want from me? I can't undo my bad choices. I just can't, but I need you. I am trying here, though I don't know how to do this us thing. Real life is hard to live but I want to do this. So you tell me what you what from me."

"I need change, Oliver. I want you to try to get better. I know this life is hard, and we are struggling with this living together thing. It's something we are both going to have to work through. But I do know I want to be done mourning you. I mourned you when I left you at Nanda Parbat with Ra's, and when you came for Nyssa and hurt John by threatening Sara's life and taking Lyla to trade. That’s bad that you did that."

He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Why won't you and Dig understand I wanted to keep everyone safe. I’d have hurt Sara, but I needed Lyla to go quietly.”

“If you’d have talked to Lyla she’d have went quietly. You chose wrong, Oliver. You should have talked to her.”

“I couldn’t chance it the league was watching me. And I couldn't let my team go up against the league. I’d have lost all of you if I hadn't taken Lyla like I did. Sara couldn't have had lost her father.”

“You don’t know that. And we went against the league and survived.”

“That time. Damn it. The league kills people, Felicity. Death’s the first option for them, not the last. And I couldn't control the people I was with. All of you could have ended up dead. Ra's commanded I bring Nyssa back. I had to bring her back."

"And you couldn't talk to John or me. Why couldn't you have let us in on your secret?"

Silence met her words, and she groaned and looked "And I mourned you when you shut that cell door. You walked away from all of us and left us to die. And I know darn good and well you didn't know if we were all going to die or not. Tell me that was fine!"

He sharply turned his back on her and clutched the counter again, breathing hard. She could see his anger radiating off his shoulders. "No it wasn't." His voice was dark. "But there was nothing I could do after Ra's broke that vial. I had to play out the charade and save all those people in Starling Ra's planned to murder.”

“I think Ra’s took one too many dips in the magic hot tub and was insane, just like you trusting Merlyn.”

“Merlyn knew things I didn’t. He was in the league. I needed him. Ra’s wanted to kill everyone and he was going to get the job done. I had to stop him.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It should have been “we” who stopped him. You should have included John and me in your small circle, and we’d have never tried to destroy the plane if you’d clued us in in. And we’d have never ended up in that cell with Ra’s trying to kill us, while you shut us in.”

“Don't you understand that there was nothing I could do? I couldn't fight the entire league, and I couldn't save you. Ra’s was testing me. And Merlyn had failed me then it was too late all of you were already dead. Don't you know what that did to me to close that door? How much that hurt me to walk away from all of you, especially you. But Ra’s blood lust made Thea’s look like nothing. He wanted to kill everyone, and I had to stop him.”

"I understand that, Oliver. But I can't forgive you for not trusting me with the truth, yet. The fact you didn't include me in your plans hurts.”

“I’ve explained. I can’t fix the past.”

She held her hand up. “I know that but we have to look to the future. Now there’s something you can do that will insure I don't have mourn you again, Oliver, not until I'm old.”

“I’ve told you what Well’s said.“

She cut the air with her hand stopping him. “I don't care what Wells told you. I’m tell you what Mae said. You’re a prime candidate for a heart attack or a stroke. Your stress levels are off the charts. You're angry. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

“I’m barely thirty. I’m fine. You need to let this go. Mae doesn’t know everything.”

“Damn you. Listen to me. People have strokes and heart attacks all the time in their thirty's and don't have the stress you have. You need help dealing with it. We need help."

He didn't answer her this time. No, instead, the fool stood there looking at the floor.

"And now you don't like what I’m saying and you shut down, bury it deep inside and that’s what’s going to kill you."  She slowly shook her head at him.

"Look, Oliver." She set her tablet on the counter in front of him. "Read, and I'll talk to you in a little while about what else Mae said." With quick swipes, she opened a web page, with the title, "Do you have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)?" and left him alone in the kitchen.

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Review, thoughts? I would love to hear them. Thanks for the read.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No spoiler.

He heard the door shut as she left him, and he knew she was so disappointed in him. And he knew she was right about so many things.

So many bad decisions, how could he make so many bad decisions? Shaking with fury, he was clutching the counter, trying to hold himself back, to reign himself in. The ache, the want, the need to punch something hard consumed him, ate at him but instead of acting on his need, he just closed his eyes and tried to breathe past his desire to use his fists. Why had he made so many terrible decisions in the last few months? Was there anything that he had done right?

She was so right to be angry with him. He should have trusted her, both her and John. He should have done things differently. He should have chased her after her in that alley and kissed her even if she had protested. He should have told her why he was working with Merlyn, made her listen, made her understand. He wished he would have kissed her after he saw her and Ray kissing. If he would have kissed her then he would have taken her to bed, and he would have never lost her to Ray for one second. No, she would have stayed with him because they had such chemistry together, because they set each other on fire. 

If he had only kissed her.

But he hadn't and just talking about her and Ray being together had ignited his rage. He was already angry enough since his time with Ra's, and just the thought of Ray, the memory of watching Ray touch her and knowing that he had pushed her into Ray arms, that it was his fault, the very thought of them together was overpowering him, crushing him.

Well, at least, he hadn't told her that he truly hoped Ray was dead because then he would never have to look at him again, never have to think about the fact that Ray had her first. Yes, if Ray was dead then he wouldn't have to stop himself from not punching Ray in the face. Yes, it was good he had kept those comments to himself, since neither of them wouldn't have gained him any points with her, even if they were truth. Shaking his head at himself, he thought, get a grip, Oliver, you're being jealous of a dead man. Like she said, he had to deal with the fact she had slept with Ray, and it was his fault for not sleeping with her himself, but that didn't change the fact he was really angry at himself for not stepping up.

And his mind was reeling that she knew he hadn't been sure if he was killing them all when he shut that cell door, when he had sealed them in to die. No, he hadn't been sure if they were going to live or die, but dying with them or landing back in the dungeon in chains and being tortured wasn't going to save the people in Starling. So he had to shut that damn door, for all their fates had been sealed the instant the vial had left Ra's hand.

 And he had darn sure had not brought up the fact that while she and the rest of the team could have been dying, he had been marrying Nyssa. No, she had not remembered or maybe known that fact, and he was never going to remind her, ever. He just had to live with the guilt that when he betrayed her and his friends, he didn't do it half way.

Nor, had he told her why Merlyn had bothered to save them in that cell or enlightened her to the fact, he had given Merlyn the league, and that he had struck the deal weeks before hand. Yes, he had used his silence to lie for weeks, and he was still keeping things from her. And he knew if he didn't tell her soon, Digg would probably tell her, and he didn't want to deal with the fallout from that. 

But how could he tell her?

Living with Felicity and arguing seemed to go hand and hand and it exhausted him. He didn't know how to argue. He knew how to fight with his fists, how to use his bow, and now how to fight with a sword. But arguing, not something he excelled in. His family hadn't argued. No, they had just kept secrets and pretended everything was alright. Sighing, he wondered if he was going to be able to survive this being in love with her. Life had been a lot easier when he was running around dressed as the Arrow, stopping crime and just watching her, though he had to admit these sleeping arrangements were a whole lot better. A slight smile lit his face.

And now she said he had PTSD, like it was a disease he could recover from. Well he didn't have that. Yes, he had problems but not those problems, and he wasn't going to have a heart attack or a stroke. He was way too young for that. Wells had said he lived to be in his 80's. Okay, he would read what she wanted him to read and then convince her she was wrong.

Calmer now, he opened his eyes and looked down at the tablet. Forcing himself, he picked it up and started to read. Slowly, he felt the blood drain from his face, and his hand covered his mouth as he read.

"People with PTSD relive the traumatic events through nightmares, hallucinations, and flashbacks."

Okay, he would give her that one. His dreams were wicked bad nightmares some times, like the one he was currently dealing with. The words "Common in people who have been tortured." jumped out at him. He knew that the times others had tortured him waged war with his subconsciousness and won when he slept. In the day time, most of the time, he could suppress the flashbacks, but not at night. No, he couldn't suppress the images, the terrible times, the things he had survived when he slept, hence the reason he slept little and worked his body so hard that he wouldn't dream.

And, yes, he had times he saw the past in his head during the day. People that weren't there anymore, people who had hurt him and people he had killed. He saw them all. That was another reason he drove himself so hard, for the exercise helped ground him and keep the images at bay.

He forced himself to read on.

"People with PTSD have intense physical reactions when they revive the trauma."

He had to give her another point. Yes, when he woke up, his heart was pounding, sweat poured off him, his muscles where so tense they ached, and the nausea was so bad he had to throw up. He had been throwing up every night for weeks now. But he excused that part because it was the water from the dream that was making him sick, just the water. He didn't normally throw up from the dreams. No, he just jerked awake and most of the time he didn't scream or call out. They had forgotten the part about attacking anyone that touched you when you dreamed, but he shut that thought down.

"People with PTSD have problems committing to others and many times shut love ones out causing problems with relationships."

Now he was getting nervous, for, yes, he had failed to commit to Felicity and shut others out, including Thea. It was a necessary evil. A way to stay sane. Every relationship he had since his return had ended with the woman leaving him or someone dying. And he understood he was damaged, that he didn't think right, and he was really struggling to stay in this relationship with Felicity.

"PTSD causes a person to be hypervigilant for threats."

He didn't even need to think about that one. Yes, that was so him. Even now when he knew he was safe, that they were safe, he was always watching, always looking over his shoulder, and always keeping close tabs on everything. Just like sleeping, he knew he was sleeping too much, sleeping too hard to be safe. If Felicity could get out of his bed without his knowing it, then someone could kill him or her in their sleep. It was unacceptable for him to sleep so hard. And he worried constantly that loving him was somehow putting Felicity in danger. Yes, hypervigilant was really him.

His finger had a tremor, as he swiped the page up and read, "People with PTSD are prone to self harm as a way to express and manage their emotions. Some say the self harm helps ground the person, return them to reality, though the relief is only temporary and is then followed by feelings of guilt, shame, anger or sadness."

His breathe was harsh as he read that, for just lately, he had hurt himself, beaten his hands bloody as a way to deal with Felicity being sick, and he had stopped himself from hurting himself a lot of times lately because he had promised her that he wouldn't beat his hands up again. But he knew his promise to her was the only reason he hadn't hurt himself, the only reason he had held back.

For he had wanted to do it again, so many times lately, he had wanted to hit something. Only minutes ago, he had so wanted to hit something to help him control his emotions. He shut his eyes and tried to breathe. How many years had he hit the practice dummies trying to silence his emotions, his demons, and his want for her. It was strange but the pain from hitting calmed him. This was suddenly too much for him, and he didn't want to read any more. No, he couldn't take any more, but he forced himself to read on. He needed to find something on this page that wasn't him.

"People with PTSD take unnecessary risks and tend to be suicidal." He so understood that. How many times had he had taken careless risks? How many times had he hoped for and hunted death?

He reached the part about triggers.

Things that set him off. Yes, he had triggers that set his rage off. Ray's name for one. Thoughts of her with Ray. Emotions were another. Feelings scared the hell out of him. It was easier to reach for the rage. It had been his friend so long, so very long.

Yes, it was him, all him. He could have written the page. The feeling numb, oh how he missed the numbness. Where was the numbness when he needed it? Yes, he was churning inside. Having feelings for her were so hard on him.

"People with PTSD can be angry, sometimes violent and have problems getting along with others."

Yes, he couldn't deny that he was angry, really angry, in a rage most of the time, and the last few months, because of Ra's, and Felicity being with Ray, he had been so angry that the rage had nearly consumed him. And the emotions Felicity had caused him to feel, swirling inside him and threatened to engulf him at times.

Just like right now was one of those times.

"People with PTSD do not think they have a future. They don't plan for the future and don't believe they can marry, have children or a life."

That stopped him cold. No, he didn't think he could have a life. How many times had he tried to die? He still couldn't believe Felicity really wanted to marry him, that he could have a life, that he had future with her. He couldn't read any more. 

It was too painful.

Heaven help him, his panic was back in full force. Okay, maybe he had PTSD. Setting the tablet carefully on the counter, he scrubbed his face with his hands, then he bowed his head, sighed and tried to process. 

But his mind just circled.

How could she stay with him? Why was she even still here with him? How could she stay when he, they had so many problems? Why would she even think about, let alone agree to marry him? How could she say she loved him? He didn't deserve her love.

And she wanted change, wanted him to get help. But how could he? He knew she meant professional help, a shrink, a counselor, all of which equaled a stranger. He could show Felicity his scars, but no way could he show them to a stranger. He wouldn't even let Thea see his battered body. Most of the time he couldn't look in a mirror and see the scars himself, for the scars contained too many memories, too many bad memories.

And that is just the scars that showed, not the ones that were inside. In some ways those scars were worse than the ones that showed. And if he couldn't even talk to Felicity about his past, even tell her about his scars, tell her about the things that had happened to him, how could he tell a stranger?

He bit his lip for an instant, for he knew there was no way he could do that.

Crossing the kitchen, he sat at the small table and put his head in his hands. He realized that he and Felicity had just reached a crossroad, and he wondered how long it was going to take her to leave him when he couldn't do what she asked of him. And he knew he couldn't do what she wanted. What was he going to do? The worry engulfed him, almost swallowed him.

Change, she wanted him to change, to open up about his past. He had read that part too. Treatment included talking about what had happened to him to other people. How was he going to talk about all the horror he had done? How could he talk about what other people had done to him?

Lifting his head, he placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out her hair tie, slowly rolled it between his fingers. It helped to calm him somewhat. But what would he do when she left him because he wouldn't get help, couldn't get help? She was no longer a want. 

No, she was a need. He was so into her, so deeply in love with her. He had fought loving her so hard, but in the end he had still lost the war. And he had been happier now then he had been in a very long time. She made him so happy. But he could tell the happiness was going to go away very soon.

He didn't know if he could stand to lose her, for he was so addicted to her. What was he going to do? He couldn't get help, yet, he couldn't lose her.

What was he going to do?

His mind was racing. She would leave him for sure if he didn't try to get help.

What was he going to do? The urge to hit something was overpowering him again, and it took all his willpower not to flip the kitchen table, not to smash her tablet against the wall, and not to beat the walls. Instead, he fisted his hands and tried to breathe and think his way out of this problem.

But his brain could only see the bad.

He had known their time together was too good to be true. And now she was going to leave him just like everyone else had. It didn't matter what she had said about marrying him. As Ra's said, he was destined to be alone. He had to stop this relationship before he got any deeper in, while he might still survive the breakup for everyday, he fell deeper for her, so much deeper for her that he wasn't sure he could walk away anymore. But he couldn't change, couldn't talk, couldn't do what she wanted from him.

Sighing deeply, resigned now, he placed the hair tie back in his pocket and rose to face her. It would be better if he got this over with now. He needed it to be over with, to be quick, like ripping the Band-Aid off. He would just face this and be done. End this now. Sever all ties, while he could still take the pain. Then he thought he would go do something he hadn't done in years because people like him had to stay alert to stay alive.

The one thing on the PTSD list he didn't do was abuse drugs and alcohol, so, he was going to get really drunk. Self-medication was what the website had called it. He would drink hard liquor, like whiskey or gin. A liquor that would get the job done quickly, and he could be good and numb again, and he wasn't really sure if and when he was ever going to sober up.

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Thoughts? Thanks for the read. I look forward to hearing from you.


	14. Chapter 14

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Felicity gave him some time to process what was on the webpage. She took a walk on the beach, but she didn't get near the water, and she noted that she had to stop and rest a few times because she was getting winded. Next week, she would start seeing the respiratory therapist again, and she hoped she would get a lot better soon. Starting to feel tired, she stopped to rest, to catch her breath, as she watched the tide roll in, knowing that she still hadn't figured out how she was going to get back in the water, because the idea totally freaked her out. It seemed that she had a small case of PTSD herself. And yes, she had a few nightmares since she had drowned. Yes, she had dreamed of drowning, but her dreams weren't as harsh as Oliver's, and she could tell herself that she was dreaming and wake up. She wished she knew how that worked, so she could teach Oliver how to stop his dreams. Hmmm.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and John's face came up. With a small smile, she hit accept.

"Felicity, how are you feeling today?"

"A lot better. Still tired but on the mend. But, I'm not the problem today. Oh, John, what am I going to do?" The entire story poured out of her mouth, how Mae knew who they were, what Mae wanted, telling Oliver he had PTSD. Their fight. The words just flew out of her mouth.

"Slow down, Felicity, take a breath. How did Oliver take it?"

"I haven't even told him all of it. He's still reeling from me telling him he has PTSD, which he denies, of course. And the dream he had last night, John, it was so terrible. Oliver doesn't have nightmares, no, he has night terrors where they chain him, beat him and then drowned him repeatedly, and I do mean repeatedly, for thirty minutes repeatedly, while they kill him over and over. And I have caused him to relive that horror."

"Shh, Felicity, don't blame yourself for Oliver's demons. It's not your fault he has nightmares."

"It's my fault I drowned, and I think he has been having that same dream every night since I did. He won't even tell me how long he has been dreaming this dream. Mae told me he tried not to sleep while I was in the hospital, that she had to send him home to make him sleep. John, the dream is so bad he throws up when he wakes up. And don't you dare tell him I told you."

"I'd have to really be talking to him to tell him," he said in a dry voice, then he said, "and it sounds like someone has waterboarded him. No, forget I ever said that. Don't look it up, Felicity, you don't want to know."

"I already know too much, way too much. And just think the dream's next showing is tonight. I don't know if I can watch him have that dream again, but what am I going to do? He so needs to get help with the nightmares, his anger, needs to learn to control his stress. I told him I want him to get help."

John broke in and said, "Are you talking professional help? You know Oliver won't do that, probably just can't do that. Man, he is so going to panic."

"He has to get help, or I agree with Mae, he is going to have a heart attack or a stroke. I need him to get better. I'd really like him to live to see 35."

"But you can't make him get help. Felicity, what you don't want to do is push him in a corner. He is going to run on you. He will end your relationship, if you try to force him to get help. And whatever you do, don't tell him you will leave if he doesn't get help, or he will end your trip and bring you back, or he'll just disappear."

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will. This is Oliver we are talking about. Don't you remember when Tommy died? He ran to the island. His mother's funeral? He ran to his second lair. A place we didn't even know about. We were the closest to him and didn't know about that hiding place. Even, I didn't even know about it. When he can't handle it, he withdraws then he tries to find a way to die himself."

"Those people died on him. That was intense. This is different. He has got to get help or his stress is going to kill him."

"Yes, I get it's different, but if you force him to choose between you and getting help, he will run. Don't ask him to choose if you want to be with him. You need to back off on trying to make him get help. He can barely talk to me, when we're talking. Man, now I'm going to have to call him. Thanks a lot, Felicity, you know I'm still mad at him, but he is going to panic. He is going to shut down, and then who knows what he will do?

"John, you are telling me to back off, this from the man who was being mean to him just weeks ago."

"I was wrong to do what I did to him. I used his guilt and self-hatred against him. But I do know him. We know him. You don't need to push him too hard on getting help, not in the beginning. Lyla tried that with me the first time we got married, and we ended up divorced, and I ended up going back for another tour. I walked away, Felicity. Do you want him to walk away?"

"But we are not you and Lyla."

"I know that, but you need to remember how much has he talked about the five years he was away in the last three years?"

"That would be pretty much nothing unless he had to."

"That's right. Almost nothing that is what he has shared. He only talked about Slade when he had to. The same with Sara. Even when he knew Sara wasn't dead, did he tell Laurel or her father? Give them any hope? No. Well why? Because he excels at keeping his secrets. Even I don't know most of the stuff he has been through, but I do know don't force him in a corner, Felicity. You won't like the results."

"But I need him to get better."

"I understand that, but you are going to have to find another way to help him then wanting him to talk to a stranger, to get professional help. Remember we are his best friends, and he won't even talk to us. Research self help."

"You're probably right. I just don't know how to do this living together thing, but I know something has got to change. And he is already freaking out, thinking that I don't really want to marry him. And I never knew that my sleeping with Ray, I did say being with Ray, that's what I'm sure I said, my being with Ray bothered him so much."

John chuckled then said, "Bothered him was hardly the word, Felicity. You being with Ray ate him alive, tormented him. Didn't you see the looks he gave you every time he saw you together? I'm still surprised he didn't punched Ray in the face during my wedding. Lyla and I even had a bet if he was going to snap before the reception was over."

"John, that's terrible. I'm not going to ask which way you were betting. You haven't heard anything about Ray have you?"

"Sorry no."

"Okay, just wondering. Oh, I'm just so floundering here. Fighting crime was a lot easier then this relationship. I don't know if we are going to survive. This being in love is really hard."

"Well, just remember it's hard on Oliver, too. He doesn't know how to do this you and him either. And you know he doesn't think he deserves you or your love. Man, Felicity, are you really sure you really want to marry him? He is such an emotional cripple."

"Not like you or me, huh, John?"

"Yes, we are just awesome at expressing our emotions."

She snickered then said, "Speaking of which, I never did thank you for calling him when I went on life support. He told me he talked to you.

"You write a mean guilt filled text. But I do love him, Felicity, even if I still mad as hell at him. And I do want him to be safe, and you were so right, he was out of control, yes, he was losing it. I'm not sure what he might have done, if I hadn't talked to him and got his head on straighter. I'm glad I called him. I think it helped him. And I'm so glad you are better. I wasn't looking forward to putting you in the pit."

"Not funny, John. And we fought about him taking Lyla again."

Silence answered her for an instant then John said, "Felicity, stay out of the middle of our fight. It wouldn't be wise to choose sides."

"I'm not choosing sides. You know whose side I on. I told him he was bad, what he did to your family, but I'm just saying that what he said made sense, John. If you step back and look at it from his side. We were protecting Nyssa, and Lyla was a peaceful means to taking Nyssa. Threatening Sara did make Lyla go peacefully, keeping her from getting hurt, and he did protect the team from the getting killed by the league, and it's true that he couldn't control the league's actions, and we all know the league kills first. So maybe, just maybe, we should look at his side."

"It's hard to look at his side when he was doing his level best to kill me on that rooftop. If Thea hadn't put an arrow in his wrist, I think he would have ran me through."

"I think he may have attacked you to keep you alive."

"I'm not buying it. I've trained with him. He was out for blood. I was the one looking in his eyes, and they were wild. The Oliver I know wasn't there."

"Exactly, so maybe he was out of his head, maybe Ra's was drugging him. I think he was starving himself not to eat Ra's drugs. You wouldn't believe how much weight he has lost."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Well, no, he won't talk about his time with Ra's, but why would he have dropped so much weight and so much muscle?"

"He's lost muscle? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it. He has lost a lot of muscle. Trust me, I have looked at his chest enough times to know. Never mind, I so did not say that."

"And you are always making excuses for him."

"Hey, I need to go. He is standing on the porch."

"Does he have his hands in his pockets."

"You know it. He is withdrawing into his shell. Rocking a little too."

"He is just protecting himself."

"More like awaiting his fate. And now you are making excuses for him."

John laughed then said, "You scare him, Felicity. Well, try to talk him into that coaching job. I think it would be good for him. I'll call him later but now, I've got to go, Sara is getting in the kitchen cabinets again. I am going to have to get some kind of locks to keep her out. She is into everything now."

"Send video. I am missing so much of her life. I love you, John, tell anyone hi from us and kiss Sara for me."

"Good bye and good luck. Keep me posted."

Felicity ended the call with John and turned and looked at the water once more and rallied herself to face him. Then, turning, she looked back to the porch, and realized he was gone.

When she reached the porch, she thought that he must have gone back into the house. But when she opened the door and said his name, he didn't answer. And it didn't take long for her to figure out, he wasn't in the house, or on the beach or behind the house. She found the car keys on the table beside the bed, right next to his cell phone, which meant she couldn't call him. It did look like he had taken his wallet, which meant he had money, but he had left everything else, including her, behind, which gave her a pain in her chest.

She stood there biting her bottom lip when his phone rang, and she saw it was John. Answering, she said, "John, he's gone. I can't find him."

John sighed deeply, and then said, "Give him a little time, maybe he will come back."

"Yes, maybe he's just trying to cope," she said hopefully. "He probably went out for a run."

"Maybe." But she heard the disbelief in his voice.

"Okay, I'll call you later."

But as the hours began to pass, and he didn't return, she knew.

Oliver had run. He had jumped ship.

#####OQ#####

Sobbing, crying, she want to do both by the time the sun was going down, and Oliver hadn't returned, but she didn't cry. No, instead, the longer he was gone, the madder she got.

NO, she wasn't wasting one more of her tears on him. She was DONE crying over him. Instead, how dare he leave her without even a word? How dare he just walk off or more likely RUN off and leave her alone? Well he wasn't getting away with it.

Grabbing her phone up, she called John.

"He has left me," her words were sharp and very angry.

"Oliver? He didn't come back, huh?"

"Well, of course, Oliver didn't come back. No, he just disappeared off the porch this morning. Poof, gone, like smoke."

"I warned you that you were scaring him, and he was going to run."

"John, you don't have to sound so smug about being right. I am hardly in the mood here. And, yes, he ran before I even had a chance to talk to him. I am so mad at him. How could he do this to me?"

"Remember that corner we talked about? He couldn't handle it, so he ran."

"Okay, John, you know him so well. Where would he run to?"

"Hmm, he is probably hunting a fight, so someplace he can find one."

"John, this is a small town. There isn't much crime here. Not a lot of bad guys to beat up."

"Then a bar in the worse side of town."

"That would make sense. Fine if that's the way he wants to play this. John, I'll talk to you later."

"Felicity, what are you planing? Felicity, don't you dare go after him. Felicity!"

But she had already ended the call and when John called back, she hit the ignore button. And when he called again, she turned her phone off.

Changing clothes, she grabbed the car keys, locked the house and headed into town. Leave her? Run from her? She would just see about that. How dare he? Well she would just show him.

#####OQ#####

It was about three miles to town, and he had ran all the way. He was dripping sweat and gasping, when he got there, but he didn't care. At the first gas station, he went in and bought two bottles of water and gulped them down.

Then, he kept moving until he found the seeder part of town, down by the docks, where the working class really drank. The area reminded him of the Glades with broken down buildings, bars on the windows, people milling around, including gang members, kid's flying colors and street people. The breeze moved the trash around on the sidewalks and older cars filled the streets. Finally, he found what looked like the right bar, and he entered the darkened interior.

"Whiskey and bring the bottle," he told the bartender as he started to pay for the bottle with his debit card, then thought better of it and handed the man cash. She could trace his card, so he wouldn't leave her a trail. Retreating, into the back, he found a dark corner where he could put his back to the wall and still watch the door. The first shot burned all the way down, but by the fifth or sixth shot, he was starting to feel better, numb almost, and by the time he killed the bottle and ordered the second, he had achieved a pretty good buzz and could almost stop his brain from working. He, so, needed his brain to STOP working.

PTSD, the letters and what he had read were running through his head. He was so messed up, and she knew it now. And when that wasn't bothering him, what he had to do was stop himself from drowning in guilt. He knew he was hurting her, consciously hurting her. Felicity was no doubt really upset by right now. She was smart enough to know that he had jumped ship, really jumped ship on her. And he had pretty much decided that he just wasn't going to face her, wasn't going to face any of this. No, he would just disappear. He had left her the car. She had money. It would be okay. She would get over him.

He took another shot and spun the shot glass on the table. His hand wanted to reach for her hair tie that he knew was in his pocket, but he denied himself, punished himself, so instead he spun the shot glass. Over and over, he spun the shot glass, rolled it between his hands, even though the action wasn't enough to soothe him, to calm him, no not even close.

The end of the workday crowd was starting to come in now, and he began to watch the men. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was hunting the biggest and baddest, for he was aching for a fight. He was going to break his promise to her. He had already severed his relationship with her, ran away, so he could now he could hit something or rather someone hard. Yes, now he could bloody his knuckles, and probably bust up his hands. Deep down, he hoped whoever he picked would last a while, hell, he hoped he would bring his buddies, and he would be happy to fight them too. So, he sized each man up, as he walked in the door, considering which one would be the best opponent and would last the longest. He so ached for a good fight.

He was reaching for another shot when the words, "Hey, checkout the blonde," broke the air and his heart thundered in his chest. Cat whistles filled the air, and men called out to her with suggestions. Anger filled him, engulfed him, for he knew before his head snapped up that she had somehow found him.

Wearing a skintight short red dress, she was lovely and even in her white tennis shoes, her legs looked much longer than they were. How could she be so beautiful? And he couldn't stop his mind from thinking it was really good that she hadn't wore heels for she already had everyone in the room's attention. Oh, hell, he was about to get his wish, for he could see there was a good chance he was going to get beat up, just trying to get her out of this bar in one piece, for already the wolves were closing in.

A very large guy with a tattoo of a tiger on his neck and enough ink on his arms to start his own tattoo shop moved first, as he stood up and stepped between her and him. And in just a few seconds, three of his buddies stood up to join him.

He wanted to groan for he had a feeling this was really going to hurt. Yes, he was about to get beat up.

"Hey, babe, are you looking for a little company tonight? I'm available all night long. And I mean all night LONG."

Three of the man's buddies laughed and closed in the space.

She was wearing her hair loose and looked like a deer in the headlights, as she cocked her head to the side and said, "Sorry, but I'm with him," and pointed her finger his way.

"Who?"

The four men turned his way, effectively blocking his view of her, so he stood up, his possessiveness smothering him. Or rather, he attempted to stand. Using the table for support, he realized that he was really drunk. Not good, Oliver, he thought. Not good at all. Stupid, in fact. So, stupid.

Getting in a fight had been part of his plan, but that plan had not included Felicity not being safe, and from the vibes in the room, she was anything but safe right now. Hell, he hoped no one stole the car because he was too drunk to run, and even though she was in tennis shoes, he really hoped they wouldn't have to run, since he was quickly realizing he was too drunk to fight. Hell, he might even be too drunk to walk.

The tattooed guy spoke first, "So she with you?" Okay, he was the leader, Oliver tried to clear his head, to get in the game. What was he thinking getting so drunk? Oh, yea, he was trying not to think. He remembered now.

"Yes, she's . . ."

Think, Oliver, just think, he told himself.

"She's my ride home." His words were slurred but he really meant it. Right now, he just wanted to get her out of this bar and go home, to go to the place they were calling home right now. Okay, he knew she was livid with him, and they were going to have a really bad argument later, but he really just want to go home with her.

But for right now how could she have come in this bar after him? Dressed like that? And he was way too drunk to defend her. What was she thinking?

Maybe that you ran from her, that he had bailed on her? He pushed those thoughts away. And tried to concentrate on staying upright. Gees, he had forgot he hadn't eaten today. He hadn't been this drunk in years. Passing out suddenly became a real possibility, and he tried to get his act together.

The bar went quiet as the bartender laid a baseball bat on the bar, making his intent clear that if you were looking for trouble in his bar you were going to find it.

Oliver reached for the bottle on the table, slowly wrapping his fingers around the neck and tried to focus. He had to get it together and focus.

"That right, Blondie?" Asked the leader.

Felicity choose that moment to scoot around the group of men and ducked under his arm supporting him, while she said, "Yes, he's so mine, my very drunk idiot." Then she kissed him soundly on the lips, broke the kiss and took the bottle away from him before she said, "I think you're drunk enough. Someone want the rest of this for helping me get him in the car? It's time to go home."

She was using her hands to talk, and he was so drunk, he lost focus and said, "You are so adorable." And he tried to kiss her again, but then she turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek.

"A little help here, please. He's really drunk and really heavy." She so smiled at the men, one of those bright, heart-stopping smiles she gave him some times.

"I think I should sit down." And he was telling the truth. The room was starting to spin a little. He was way too drunk for this.

"No, Oliver, don't sit down. I will never get you back up again. See, I don't think he can walk, and I can't carry him. And I swear if he falls down, I'll never get him up again." Then she gave all of them, one of her best light filled smiles.

You could have heard a pin drop. The room seemed to inhale and then exhale, then the tattooed guy laughed out loud, and said, "Sure, always willing to help a lady in need. Bill, you grab one side and I'll get the other."

And Oliver could do nothing but go along, not that he was sure he really could walk, so he leaned on the men, as they carried him to the car and stuffed him in the passenger side. And he could tell they were impressed with the Porsche and probably with his woman too.

He was impressed the car was still in the parking lot, and with the fact she had just managed not only to stop a bar fight, but had gotten the guys who were about to beat him up to put him in the car, with a laugh and a clap on the back for good measure. Well, it was just surreal. But then he was really drunk.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, she grounded the clutch, then pointed a finger at him and said darkly, "Not one word, Oliver? What were you thinking? Running from me? Planning to get in a bar fight? I know what you were thinking."

"Felicity, I."

"Didn't I tell you not to talk?" She grabbed another gear and jerked his head back against the seat. His head and his stomach were really starting to hurt now, and the car ride was not helping. He had forgot how much getting drunk hurt.

"How did you find me?" He was really starting to hurt now.

"John said look for the worse bar in town. So I did."

"John did not send you to the worse part of town to look for me in a bar." He was so slurring his words.

"No, he just told me where you probably were. I decided to come after you."

"Tell me you got lucky the first time?"

"More like the fourth."

He groaned then said, "You have been in four bars tonight? Dressed in that tight red dress? Felicity, don't you ever do that again." His voice was raising, so loud that he was making his own head pound, as he thought of all the things that could have happened to her. "You could have been really hurt. Don't come into a bar looking for me again."

She pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. And they sat there in the dark then she said with a sigh, "Then don't run from me. I warned you there is no escaping me. I LOVE YOU. GET IT. You run and I'll find you. You leave me, and I'll find you. I'll drag you back to me. Escape is not an option. GET IT, Oliver. Process it."

Her words warmed him, soothed him. But, he was so drunk. So couldn't think. And, his stomach was rolling.

"Felicity, I'm going to be sick."

"Not in the car, Oliver, not in the car."

He barely managed to get the door open before all that hard liquor came rushing up. Retching hard, he was so sick and it took a while to get all that liquor out. Finally, the worst seemed over, and he managed to get out of the car and leaned hard against the car.

Then she was there helping him, telling him, "Don't pass out, Oliver. Stay with me. Wow, you smell really bad. But I guess a shower is out of the question." It was a real effort, but he managed to help her to get him up the steps, into the house, and then he gratefully fell in the bed.

"What were you thinking, you idiot? How could think you could just go like that?" She was pulling his shoes off.

"I was leaving you. I'm too messed up. You are so better off without me."

"I am not better off without you. Don't talk like that. That's the whiskey talking."

"No, it's not. You're just going to leave me anyway. People always leave me. So leaving now, ending it now, will hurt less. I can't get help. Can't do it. Too good to be true."

"What is, Oliver? What's too good to be true?"

"Us." And the darkness claimed him.

#####OQ#####

Thoughts? Love to hear from you. Thanks for the read!


	15. Chapter 15

#####OQ#####

Felicity stood there with his tennis shoe in her hand and realized he had just passed smooth out on her. She shook her head. How could he be so drunk? The man that took control to a whole new level was passed out, unconscious, defensiveness, and it was self-inflected. She rolled her eyes, exhaled sharply and frowned.

"Too good to be true," that was what he had said. Still frowning, she looked at her so handsome man, as he slept the sleep of the dead, and thought well at least, now she understood, somewhat, why he had panicked, why he had run from her.

And John was right. Oliver truly believed she would leave him because he couldn't get help. And, yes, Oliver was right too. As, she had watched every woman he had been with, end her relationship with him. Yes, everyone had left him, even Sara. And Sara had seemed so right for Oliver and seeing them together, she'd been so hurt, so angry.

Okay, she'd been totally jealous.

Sara, she so did not want to think about Sara, like this day hadn't been bad enough.

Oliver had been hers, all hers in the lair. It had been non sexual, even if she thought about having him, and she'd completely not welcomed Sara's presence in her domain.

Sara'd been all the things that Oliver respected, and she quickly became everything she wasn't. Sara equaled strength. Sara knew a lot of his secrets, which gave them a bond from the beginning. And, wow, could she fight. But Sara had been sleeping with him and that was almost more than she could stand.

She'd hated watching them kiss each other, but when Sara had called her "cute," Felicity'd wanted to show her how cute she was. She'd desperately wanted to empty Sara's bank account or cancel her credit cards, but no, she found Sara to be a ghost. No matter how had hard she'd looked, she'd fought that Sara possessed no electronic trail. A fact that made Felicity dislike Sara even more. And it wasn't that she really disliked Sara, no she just disliked, rather hated with a depth that ran to her painted toe nails, Sara sleeping with Oliver.

 Felicity hated that she envied Sara and wanted to be her, wanted Sara's place with him. for normally, Felicity liked herself. Okay, she got that she was smarter than most people and that didn't make her popular. She was a genius, she was grounded, and she understood a lot of things that most people didn't. Oliver gave a sharp snore breaking her thoughts and she said to the room, "And you are a total idiot when it comes to a man named Oliver Queen."

Oh, yes, she'd experienced a major crush on him for years, forever, pretty much from the very second, she'd ever laid eyes on him, and she knew he knew that fact.

Stop it, Felicity, she told herself. Sara's dead, and then she felt guilty enough that she found herself a little bit glad, for Oliver now belonged to her Yes, the drunken man on the bed belonged now totally to her.

Yes, she'd finally gotten what she wanted, and no wonder all those women had all ran from him, for he was such a handful, such an idiot sometimes. Yes, she'd found Oliver dare right down right hard to love some days.

Days like today, for one.

How dare he leave her, run from her and go get drunk? So drunk that thank goodness she'd looked for him, for she had a feeling someone or more than one man would have beaten him up tonight. She realized he would have started a bar fight and was so drunk he would have lost and would have probably found himself dumped in a back alley bleeding, with no tracker on him.

And now wasn't that a cheery thought that he could be laying bleeding in an alley right now, and she would have had no way to find him. No, that wasn't cheery at all, in fact, the thought terrified her.

So all right, she understood that when he ran this morning, he had just been cutting his losses. Okay, he probably was too messed up, too damaged for her, and yes, they probably were too good to be true, but that didn't mean she could just stop loving him. Heaven help her, it wasn't like she hadn't tried to stop loving him and look how well that had worked.

She could have stayed with Ray, but she just couldn't get Oliver out of her blood. She really wanted to, but she was addicted to him. No, she didn't seem to possess a "stop loving Oliver button." If she did, she would have pushed it a while ago. Unfortunately, it wasn't like she could power her emotions for him down like one of her computers.

And, oh, how the stupid fool made her heart hurt, and he had done so repeatedly by pushing her way, by making decisions for the both of them, and now by running away. Why didn't he just get that she had loved him for so long that there was no way she wouldn't stay with him? If she hadn't left him in the last three years, just why would she him leave now? Hadn't she gotten in the car with him and ridden away from her entire life? What part of her loving him did he not understand?

And how could he not understand that she had been around now for three years, she had darn near lived in his pocket for three years, and without any sex mind you, with only his slight smiles and slight touches to carry her though. He had to be crazy to think she had not known he had problems, had issues? Well, she was just going to have to work on making sure he understood, perfectly understood, that she knew him, all of him.

Dropping his shoe, she stripped off his socks and decided right then that he was just going to have to sleep in his clothes because he was too heavy for her to remove them. It would serve him right. She threw the sheet over him with the words, "Oliver Queen, you are such an idiot sometimes. Why do I love you? I am really too smart for this."

And he answered her with a snore.

Then she turned on her phone and frowned as she noted the 19 missed calls and really frowned as John's and then Thea's texts started flying in, pinging one right after the other. Sighing, she texted John first.

"Y were right. Found him n a bar, drunk & trying 2 get beat up. Nite."

As soon as she hit send, her phone rang and John's face came up. She cringed, but hit the accept button and then had to pull the phone away from her ear, as John's loud voice yelled at her.

"What do you mean you found him in a bar? Oliver's drunk? And how dare you call me, then turn your phone OFF! Do you know how worried I have been, Felicity? I was ready to catch a flight out there. I went so far as to call Thea to ask about borrowing her jet. And now she's freaked out too. Are you all right? Hell, is he all right? And then you have the nerve to text me NITE. Felicity, you're making me lose my mind."

"John, stop yelling at me. I'm fine. Oliver's passed out. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I was just so mad at him. And yes, he's drunk, really drunk. He was so drunk, I had to get two very big scary guys from the bar to carry him out and put him in the car. Forget I said scary. They weren't all that scary. Well, maybe, the guy that had the tiger tattoo on his neck was pretty, well, never mind. But really he was very helpful in the end, because he helped carry Oliver to the car, and I'm okay. Still mad but okay."

"Tiger tattoo? Carry Oliver to the car? You can't be serious that Oliver couldn't walk to the car under his own power? I've never seen him drink more than a shot in all the time I've known him."

"Oh, yeah, well, you should have seen him. Darn, I could have recorded it. He could barely stand up. He was smashed, snookered, falling down, and puking drunk. It's a good thing I went to that bar and found him."

"I doubt Oliver is going to think that tomorrow, Felicity. Now where exactly was this bar?" His tone was low now and dangerous sounding.

She tried to play it off. "In town. And, John, I need you to send me a tracker. He is wearing one from now on, if I have to implant it. He's lucky he didn't end up in an alley beat up tonight."

"WHERE in town?" John demanded, not to be distracted.

She swallowed hard and said, "Down by the docks."

"Jeez, Felicity are you trying to get yourself killed or worse? Have you ever heard of rape? What is going on with you two? Oliver's falling down drunk? You're making stupid, reckless decisions. You two are making me crazy with worry. First you drown, then get really sick, life support really sick, and now Oliver runs from you to get drunk? Then you think you can just go to the worst part of town and get two SCARY guys to put him in the car for you? And since when can you drive a clutch?"

"I've been practicing, thank you very much. And well, the SCARY men did put him in the car. I just had to ask nice and smile. And the bartender never even had to use the ball bat he put on the counter. Wait, I did not just say that."

"Oh, my god, Felicity. Don't tell me anymore. I really think it's time you two ended your little road trip and came back home where I can keep an eye on you both. You were both safer here fighting crime."

"I'm sorry, so sorry, I so didn't mean to worry you, John. But I want to stay here a while. I just wasn't letting him get away with leaving me. And it only took four bars to find him. And I met some really interesting people."

"Four bars." His voice was raising again. "Four bars, Felicity, don't you realize the trouble you could have gotten in? You're lucky to be alive. You were probably in the worst part of town too. I bet those interesting people thought you were insane, which probably the only reason you got out alive."

"Well, that's were you told me to look for him. And I didn't get hurt, really everyone was very nice. I found him, got help putting him in the car, and he is now passed out on the bed."

John sighed deeply and said darkly, "Felicity, I did not tell you to go and look for him, I only told you." He groaned and then silence met her ear. It was an instant before he went on and said, "Enough, you will never do that again, Felicity. Do you understand me? Promise me, Felicity."

"Got it, John. But for now I am really tired and want to go to bed. It's been a long day but I'll call tomorrow."

"I mean it, Felicity, NEVER AGAIN! Promise me."

"Sure, but he had better not run on me again. Night, John. Oh, and would you call Thea and tell her we are okay, since you're the one that called her and worried her in the first place?"

And John groaned again and then said, "I think I liked it better when you two were just making goo goo eyes at each other. I don't think I am going to survive the two of you as a couple, if you keep this nonsense up."

"Night, John. Love you all. Kiss Sara for me." And she ended the call and went to bed and even drunk, he reached for her and tucked her against his chest. And she sighed, somewhat content, and moved a little closer, for they so fit together like a puzzle that interlocked.

#####OQ#####

Daggers were shooting through his brain as the sunlight blinded him, and he couldn't stop the groan from coming out his mouth. His head pounded with every beat of this heart, and his mouth was so dry his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Oh, she was good at making him feel bad. His heart fell and the guilt attacked him. He had run from her and the first thing he saw, after he blinked a few times and managed to get his eyes open, was an open bottle of aspirin and two bottles of water sitting on the bedside table. And he knew the water was not a peace offering, or out of the kindness of her heart, no, it was just something she did for him, for as usual she was patching him up because she was foolish and believed she loved him. Oh, how could she love him?

Cracking the cap off the first bottle, he chugged it down, then wincing, hurting, head pounding, he silently gave thanks that she had opened the aspirin bottle for him, for he was pretty sure the child resistant cap would have won the battle this morning. Carefully, he poured some aspirin in his hand, and then washed the pills down with the second bottle of water. Gingerly, he stood up, and headed for the bathroom, realizing that he had slept in yesterday's clothes, and he really needed a shower and to brush his teeth.

After a short shower, in which the very sensation of the water hurt his head, his very body, he felt somewhat human and really stupid. Getting drunk hadn't helped anything. All it had done was put her in danger, in real danger. He had a little bit of blackout going on, but he was pretty sure she had come into a dangerous bar, wearing a sexy red dress. He vaguely remembered some very large men putting him in the car. Whatever had happened after him seeing her in that dress and him getting put in the car was gone, and he had partied enough in his youth to know the memory probably wasn't coming back.

But, since his hands didn't hurt, were not beat up, that meant there had been no bar fight, so he had never gotten the fight he had been really aching for. He guessed that was good since he didn't remember getting in a fight, so what good was that.

But she must have brought him home that much was clear. Was she mad at him? Now that was a blank spot. Yes, she had differently brought him home. More memories had returned in the shower. "Escape is not an option," she had told him. "Process it." Well he was, and truthfully, he was just awed that she wasn't willing to just give him up, willing to let him just walk away because she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he knew that here was where he really wanted to be. He just hadn't figured out how to make them work yet. And why she didn't just toss him to the side like the rest was beyond him.

Leaving the bedroom, he crossed the living room and stopped at the kitchen door. She was drop dead glorious this morning. She so took his breath away, wearing a bright flowered sundress, playing on her tablet, engrossed in something, and he squared his shoulders, preparing to face her.

Okay, he could do this.

But for an instant, he just watched her, drank her in, while she wasn't mad at him, yet. She was so amazing, so smart, so strong, and so foolish. He had remembered that she had walked in four bars looking for him, and he would never place her in that situation again, ever. No he would never endanger her like that again.

Who knew being in love could be so hard and painful? He would rather fight a crowd of assassins then face her right now, for he knew he was going to disappoint her, yet again. And he hated that. He really didn't want to hurt her again.

If only he could just get in the car and drive away, but knowing if he did, she would figure a way to find him, and she would put herself in danger again to find him. He had no choice now, but to stay as long as she would have him, and somewhere deep down a part of him was relieved that he couldn't run from her again, that he had to stay with her, and that he had no choice now but to stay with her.

Memories from yesterday came back to haunt him.

She was already mad, so, why make it worse by sneaking up on her. Softly, so not to hurt his still pounding head, he knocked on the kitchen door, and then stuck his hands in his pockets, withdrawing himself, as he leaned on the doorframe and gave her a charming smile, with a slight nod of his head.

The smile almost reached her face when her head jerked up, but then he could tell she thought better of it. He sighed inwardly, knowing he fully deserved whatever happened next.

"Feeling bad this morning, Oliver? And that smile is not going to work, so put it away, cause it makes me think you are proud of your behavior."

Ouch, he guessed he had earned that remark and her bitter tone, and he stopped the smile. Looking down, he said, "Yes, I am feeling really awful. Thanks for asking, and thanks for the water and the aspirin. It was thoughtful of you."

"It was pity."

"You know I hate pity. Okay, I deserve that."

"That and more." Her voice was raising. "And, Oliver, I'm up here. Look at my face. If you want to talk to me then look at me, UP HERE."

He snapped his head up and looked at her. She was talking with her hands, oh, how he loved that, he thought before he said, "And yes, my head is killing me, so volume please. And I'm really sorry, that I ran from you. It wasn't one of my finer moments." There he had said it and gotten it out of the way.

"You should be sorry. And I'm sorry, I freaked you out, but if you run again I will find you. Trust me. I will find you."

"Don't you ever come into a bar looking for me again." His tone was dark and tense. "You could have really gotten hurt, and I was in no shape to defend you."

"That was your fault. Don't be in a bar, Oliver. Don't go get drunk, and I won't have to go in, rescue you, and drag you home."

"Felicity, I mean it."

He wonder how she had rescued him, but there was no way he would ever ask.

"And, so do I, Oliver." She was pointing and her hands were on her hips. "Did you really think I was really just going to let you go? Let you disappear? Then you really must be dreaming."

"Maybe. I don't know. I'm not sure I was thinking."

"Yes, you were. If anything you were over thinking. Something freaked you out, so bad that you ran from me, from us. What was it? The article? The truth? Or that I wanted change?"

"I don't know."

"Stop lying, Oliver." She took her glasses off and laid them on the table, sighing, before she said, "You've got enough strikes against you this morning already, and if we are ever really going to make this relationship work, we have to stop lying to each other. "

Her eyes were intense, as she burned her glare into him. "You said that to me only yesterday. We need to be truthful so, Oliver, you take the first step.

The look that she gave him was so serious, so intent.

She went on. "Now, we both know that you knew exactly what you were thinking when you ran, so tell me what you were thinking, so this doesn't happen again."

He shut his eyes, then opened them and said, "I can't get help. I can't change, and I thought you were going to leave me. I stood there on that porch and looked at you on the beach. I, so, wanted you, but knew I had to end this, that I was going to end this. I was going to end us. And I suddenly, just couldn't hurt you like that again and watch. Leaving seemed better than looking you in the face and hurting you again. I didn't want to watch me hurt you again."

He took a deep breath and added, "So, I got drunk, so I didn't have to think. Felicity, I don't want to think, anymore. And, I really hadn't thought through what I was going to do after getting drunk. I just wanted to be numb. It was so stupid on my part."

"Wow, John really does know you. So you wanted to be numb?"

He had to look down, couldn't met her eyes anymore. This entire conversation was so difficult for him. How did people argue like this all the time?

This was so hard for him. He could hardly stand it. 

Swallowing, he said, "Yes, this being in love with you, living with you, and arguing with you is choking me sometimes. The arguing just exhausts me. I really have trouble arguing with you."

He looked up and caught her eyes and asked, "Do you want the truth?"

"Yes." Her voice was so quiet now, so earnest.

"I miss being numb. I hate all this emotion you cause, but I love you so much too. Yes, I so love you, but I don't know how to do this us thing."

She stood up and walked over to him, looking so sexy, as she totally got in his space. Breathing her scent in, he sighed, as she held out her hand and said, "And neither do I, but I know we need to keep trying. Will you walk with me?"

He pulled his hands out of pockets and took her hand, and she interlocked her fingers with his and it felt so right, so good.

Together, they walked slowly down the beach. Keeping his silence, he waited for her to say, whatever she was going to say, for if there was one thing his Felicity wasn't, it was quiet for any length of time.

So he knew, he wouldn't have to wait for long for her to speak. But his heart was heavy, and he just wished he had an answer for her on how to fix him, how to fix them. His heart was leaden in his chest and it made it hard for him to breathe.

They had only walked a short ways, when she stopped and said, "I know I was freaking out, and I know I freaked you out. Oliver, I'm sorry."

Not the words he expected to hear, and he frowned as he tired to figure out where she was going. So he asked, "You're sorry?"

"Yes," she was talking with her hands. He so loved when she did that.

It really turned him on.

So when she said, "I'm sorry. I pushed you too hard. I know you don't talk about what has happened to you. And I pushed you into a corner. John warned me that my demanding you get help, to change right now was too fast and too soon. I should have known you were going to run. I do want you to get help, but I can't make you."

He was in no way taking in what she was saying, and he said, "You can't make me?"

"No. I just want you to get better, and not get sick on me, not die on me, and to learn to control your stress, your anger and your dreams. I just want you to stay with me, so we can work this out."

"Stay with you?" Those words he had heard.

"Oliver, has someone pressed your repeat button? You're repeating everything I say. I'm the one that normally doesn't make sense."

He cleared his throat, gave his still somewhat foggy, pounding head a small shake to clear it and then asked, "You want me to stay even if I don't get help?"

"Of course, I want you to stay. Oliver, you are such an idiot sometimes. Would you get it, already? Process it. Oh, this would so much easier if your brain worked like a computer, like mine." She smiled then sighed deeply, then went on. "Would you just PROCESS that I LOVE YOU, and that is not just going to STOP." She was poking him in the chest now, jabbing him with each word.

"I CAN'T MAKE LOVING YOU STOP, there is no button, and trust me, I've looked for one, so even if you screw up and run from me and get drunk, though I could do without a repeat of last night, I just want to figure this life out, together. I want to get old with you. And if you run from me, believe me, I will find you, even, if you use cash, because you won't be able to hide from me forever."

He wanted to believe her, but it was so hard, finally he ask, "Why, Felicity?"

"Why what?"

And the look on her face was priceless because she really didn't understand what he was talking about. He released her hand and took a step back from her and said, "Why would you stay with me? What I read is so," his voice cracked but he forced the words out, "so me. I have everything on that page but the drug and alcohol abuse."

"And you were making a good attempt at the alcohol abuse last night."

"Well, I'm really damaged, Felicity. I don't seem to know how to make good decisions sometimes. You of all people should know it, and you should run away from me, far away from me because I am just going to hurt you over and over, again and again, just like yesterday. You need to process that I consciously knew I was hurting you, and I did it anyway. Don't you get that? I knew when I ran away from you that I was hurting you, and I can almost promise you I will hurt you again if you stay with me."

She gave him a small smile and said, "Yes, you probably will, and I will hurt you because that is what happens in real life."

"How can you say that and it is just okay with you? Why do you keep coming back for more pain from me? For NO, I can't get help, not the way you want me to. I just can't talk about those times, not with a stranger, and maybe not ever with you. So tell me, why would you want me to stay? Why do you think we have a future because from what I read, I don't, because I am going to keep repeating the same mistakes just like I have been doing for years. It's all I know how to do. So why don't you just end this right now and save both of us a lot of pain?"

She reached and grabbed both his hands and looked him straight in the eyes before she said earnestly, "Because you're my puzzle, Oliver, you're my gift, and my dream. You're my personal puzzle that I will always want to solve, and you're my awesome lover, and I have been without you a lot this last year and it really sucked. Did you like being away from me, Oliver?"

"No, I hated it." And he meant it. He had missed her so badly in his time away.

"Me too. So I know what it's like to live without you, and I want every second we can have together, for you have finally chosen ME, not the city, not the mission, but me and you're my friend, my very best friend. You compete me. You fit me. It's like the way we fit together in bed. And I don't mean sex." And she blushed and he loved her reaction, like any male loves that he can make his lover blush. Oh yes, that blush was very good for his ego.

"I mean when we sleep the way we fit. You're the one for me. So, if you will just stay with me and keep trying to make this work, we will figure this thing called normal life. Think about it, Oliver, together, we always figure out the problem. We just need more time. Okay?"

And she smiled up at him with that hopeful light filled smile of hers and looked at him like he really was her gift, and his heart seemed to turn over in his chest, for he almost believed her.

And then he nodded at her, because his voice wasn't working at that instant, then he laughed, really laughed, as all those overpowering emotions, happy emotions raced through him. Reaching, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her up to kiss her soundly and then placed her back on her feet.

"And you kiss like a dream. Did I just say that? I hope not. Your ego is big enough now. And you have a goofy grin, which I don't see often enough, but that I really like."

He felt like a weight on his heart had lifted, and he had to clear his throat before he said, "I'm just so happy you don't want me to leave you. I was so sure you were going to give me a choice, that you were going to leave me, that we were over if I didn't get help."

"Didn't I just agree to marry you twice in the last couple of days? Normally people that say they are getting married aren't breaking up."

"I know, but then after what I read." He broke his embrace, turned away from her and looked at the ocean. "I thought maybe . . . you."

"What? That I wouldn't want you anymore if you had PTSD?"

He nodded just a little.

"Oh, Oliver, do you think I don't know all those things about you already? It isn't like you just caught PTSD like a cold or the flu or something."

"Felicity, I don't always know what you think, and I am not in my element here. You think way different than I do, most of the time. I can't always keep up. It's just so much of the way I act. . . is not very conductive to a healthy relationship, so I thought it would be better to end this before I destroyed us too."

"Oliver, you have had PTSD from the moment you handed me that bullet ridden laptop and that terrible lie, though I guess I really didn't know it until I found you bleeding in my car and learned you were the Hood. Trust me; I know what I am getting into here."

She got between him and the water and tilted her head up and placed her small soft hand on his rugged face and said, "I have seen your monsters, and they don't scare me, well okay, maybe a little, but I'm strong, and I can take it. I know those things about you, just like you know I talk a lot, babble, tell the truth way too often and say things wrong sometimes, well maybe a lot of times."

"And you're bossy and pushy and like to argue way more than I do. I really hate the arguing, Felicity." He gave her one of his mean looks.

And she returned it with the words, "Then stop making me mad or deal with it. Arguing and relationships go together, and we still seem to have a lot of problems."

He tried staring her down, and she just continued with the words, "But that's all true about me. And right now I'm just worried you are going to die on me, so I'm freaking here out too. I need you to live a long life. I need you, Oliver. I chose you too you know?"

A small smile managed to break his face at her words, and then he sighed and said, "I know that, Felicity, and it puts me in awe, but what if I can't change, can't get better? What then?"

"We'll just keep trying, Oliver. I understand you can't talk to a stranger about your problems. But you have to start trusting me. And there are things we can do to help us, Oliver."

"What kind of things?"

"Things like sharing just one thing about the dreams like we did the other night. Things like talking about how you can change the dream. There is a website I want to read about learning to you control your dreams. You could do that couldn't you?"

"Maybe?" He was unsure.

"You could try."

And she gave him one of those smiles that he loved, and before he knew what happened he had agreed. How did she do that to him?

"And then one of the little problems you need to get a grasp on is you need to stop thinking I am going to leave you every time we hit a bump in this new life. I'm not leaving you, and you need to understand that. No one is allowed to jump off this ship."

Again he nodded his head.

"Okay, now brace yourself while I tell what else Mae told me." And she told him and he frowned deeply.

"You don't think Mae was threatening us? You really think she knows who we are?"

"Yes, I do, and no, she was very clear that she wasn't a threat. She was also clear that she thought you were a prime candidate for a heart attack or a stroke because you have Chronic PTSD. Then she told me that you have nightmares, that you push your body to extremes so you won't dream."

"How would she know that?" 

Now that made him nervous.

"Maybe because you never slept at the hospital, that you went hours and hours without sleeping. Enough hours that people noticed and talked about it. Did Mae send you home to sleep, Oliver?"

"Yeah, a couple times. I just couldn't sleep there."

"The dream? Huh?"

He breathed out and nodded his head.

"Oliver, when I looked her and her husband up, I found that they had a son. Mae said you reminded her of someone she didn't help. The person that she had known had problems that she ignored, thinking they would go away. She said she really regretted her decision later. Well her son shot himself in the head, Oliver, and I think you remind her of her son. And she's right, you have problems, and we are ignoring them."

"Felicity, I am not going to shoot myself."

"No, but you have been trying to die for a really long time. How many times just lately? No matter what you think you really aren't immortal."

He knew she was right, and there had been days when it took all his will power not to end his torment, not to really silence the dreams, and not to stop the flashbacks. He looked back at the water and stuck his hands back in his pockets.

"But Mae does want something from both of us. The question is what we do next." She reached and pulled his hands back out of his pockets and interlaced her fingers with his.

"Do you want to upgrade their network?"

"It would give me something to do and if you were to be a coach, you would have a something to do too, something that could be important, have a purpose. Mae said you needed purpose, and she's right you do. We have spent enough time being aimless. Both of us need direction. And frankly, I'm kind of bored."

His head was swimming with all she had told him. "Nice to know I'm boring."

"You know that is not what I meant."

"I know nothing about soccer or teenagers. How could I coach?"

"You could learn. What did you know about a bow to begin with? So learning would give you something to do, and you could make a real difference. We have to start a life somewhere, Oliver. We can't travel forever and maybe here is a good place."

"Are you asking me to do it?"

"Yes, I am asking you to try. But this has to be your choice, Oliver. Not mine."

"Okay, let's do lunch with them and see what they say."

"Sounds good." She released his hands and then ran her hands down his chest and hooked her fingers in his waistband. Then, she retraced the path back up his chest and slowly used her hands to frame his face as she said, "Want to make out? I'm pretty needy for you right now. And since we had another argument, we have to kiss and make up. And you have a LOT to make up for."

Lust rushed through him, as he said, "Really? Needy? Huh? I do like the making up part of arguing, and you're right I have a lot to make up for."

She said with a small smile, "Oh, yes, really needy, so very needy. Kiss me, Oliver. I like it when you kiss me," as her mouth came up and locked with his.

Heat rushed through him and his dick thickened and began to throb. He stood there on the beach and really kissed her, so tasted her over and over, as his mouth devoured hers, and she gave back as good as she got. Wanting her, so desperately, he realized he was going to move them back into the house, or he was going to take her on the beach, right there in the sand, because all of his restraint was leaving him. 

How did she do that to him?

Grabbing her hand, he pulled his lips from hers and began to tug her back toward the house. Reaching the porch, laughing, she attacked him, launched herself at him and wrapped herself around him. Legs wrapped around his thighs, she kissed him over and over, and absorbed him, pressing her hot body against him, as she pulled him so emotionally under, drowning him with desperate need for her.

She was making him so crazy. So overwhelmed, so lost in her, in just those few minutes, he need her so badly, needed to drive himself into her, give it to her, so hard, so fast. He needed her right now.

"Now, Oliver. I need you. Give me you, now, right now."

And she was so on the same page as him, and he loved it. He finally got her in the door, and then he pinned her against the wall. He couldn't help it, as his hands striped her dress and bra off her and flung it away. Quickly, he pulled her panties down, no real grace, just the need to get her body naked.

No, he couldn't take it anymore, couldn't wait. He needed her so badly, so desperately.

And she just cried out for him to hurry, as she unbuttoned his shorts and dropped them and his boxers. And how her need for him fed him. He was so into her. The need for her was so bad, so overwhelming him.

But he tramped down his greed, as he grabbed her hands and held on while his mouth moved down her naked body. First focusing on her breasts, he, then, kissed his way down her stomach until he found her hard clit. Kneeling, with her pinned against the wall, he released her hands, and he put his mouth on her and made her shudder for him as he sucked, licked and nipped with his teeth.

He knew how to turn her on, how to make her cum, and he needed her ready for him, for he knew he was going take her in a hard rush. So he pushed her up swiftly, giving her no quarter. She held on to his hair, as she cried out for him, as he brought her quickly to her peak, sucking her clit as she came, while his hands roamed her ass.

Giving her no time to come down from the rush, he stood, and she thrust herself toward him, and he picked up her. She came so willingly, as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, and pulling her a little bit away from him, he found his spot and his dick was entering her, and he thrust so hard into her, so very hard he gasped, groaned out loud, as she slammed herself against him to meet him, to greet him, and the pleasure was so intense, so very intense that he reveled in it. He loved her so much, and he really wanted to prolong this, but he couldn't hold back, couldn't slow down for the way her body felt against his was too much, no, she was going to make him cum.

"Find it, Felicity, I can't last. I want to but I can't. Oh, what you do to me."

"Good, do it. Harder, more, mine. You are so mine. All mine, hmm," and she pulled him even deeper, and he was so deep, so very deep, and his need was so intense that he rushed. He needed her so bad, so very badly as he drove into her, and she met him stroke for stroke.

"Oliver, yes, there, right there, yes." She was plastered against him now, grinding against him. He had her pressed against the wall, and she was left with no room to move between him and the wall and it was just so intense, just pure feeling, and he could feel every inch of her, as he locked his lips with hers and thrust his tongue in her mouth, as she exploded for him.

He felt her shatter, then she trembled in his arms, as she milked him, clutching him, head thrown back as she moaned deeply, and he couldn't hold back, he exploded, flew apart, flew back to that perfect place that was so home, that place where he didn't know who was who, couldn't tell his body from hers, but he knew he was home in her body, and in her arms. It was such a rush, a perfect high that he would never get over.

Breathing hard, having problems standing, he held her with one arm and used the other to support them, while he tried not to crush her against the wall. He realized his shirt was still on and his shorts and boxers were around his ankles, and she was struggling to breathe.

"You okay? I hear you gasping."

She gave a small sound and squeezed his shoulder, and he understood she didn't have the air to answer him.

Stepping out of his clothes, he turned and carried her to the couch and sat down, still inside her, as she struggled to find her breath.

"That's it. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. I'm sorry, I really meant to make us wait a couple more days but what you do to me."

"No . . . I . . . loved . . . it."

"Shh, don't try to talk yet." He was rubbing her back, soothing her, until she got her breath back and as soon as she did, he pulled his shirt off, tossed it away, and his mouth went back to work, for he was slowly hardening inside of her warmth.

She sighed against his chest and rocked on him, urging him on, squeezing him with her sweet body, before she said, "I thought you wanted to wait a couple of days?"

"Teach me to think, and I know I have a lot to make up for so just let me pay my penance." Then he started with her neck and ended in a place that made her scream his name repeatedly, for he really wanted to make it up to her.

#####OQ#####

Thoughts? I always love to hear from my readers. And as always, thanks for the read.

 


	16. Chapter 16

#####OQ#####

Later, after Felicity took a short nap, and Oliver went for a quick run, they’d drove into town and grabbed a quick late lunch and stopped at the grocery store for a few things. Felicity wasn't sure exactly what Oliver wanted to buy, but she enjoyed watching him shop for food, since this was side of him, she hadn't known existed.

The superstore was a pretty large supermarket, with groceries on one side and pretty much everything else on the other. He pushed the cart down the bread isle, as she walked beside him.

"What do you want to eat in the next few days?" He put a small loaf of French bread in the cart.

“Picky much?” She teased him as she watched him squeezed several loaves of whole wheat bread until he found one that met his approval.

“No the word’s selective.” He held out the loaf. “Feel, this one is soft.” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “Like your skin.”

She warmed inside and reached and touched the bread and felt it press easily.

Placing the loaf in the basket, he reached and picked up another loaf. “The older bread gets hard.”

“I like hard.”

“Oh, I like hard too.” He grinned at her and lifted his eyebrows several times.

“Oliver, stop. I mean hard bread. I did not mean. No saying I don’t like. Oh, never mind.”

And he laughed and she smiled at him. “As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, let’s think about food Felicity. What do you want to eat the next couple of days?” He pushed to cart and she followed him her heart light.

Her eyes swept the large room filled with more choices than she'd ever seen in her life.

"I don't have a clue. Oliver, do you realize, you’ve taken me to more grocery stores in the last month than I’ve been in my entire life? There are a lot of choices here. Almost too many choices. It overwhelms me. I mean I'm out of my depth. Well I admit I buy ice cream, but I don’t cook. I eat out, you know that."

"I guess your mom didn't cook either?"

"Oliver, you've met my mother. What about her appearance screams out she cooks?"

He chuckled a little. "Okay, you’re right. She doesn't look like the type to cook. But appearances are deceiving." He gave her one of his charming grins and added, "Look at us."

"Point taken, but I don't believe that your mother cooked either."

"You're right. Raisa, our housekeeper cooked, and no, I never went near a grocery store until I was older." He pushed the cart toward the produce section. "Okay, if your mom didn't cook, what did you eat when you were growing up?"

"Well, Mom waited tables in a casino. Sometimes, she would bring food home from the hotel kitchen. So, I guess she raised me on leftovers and take out. You know things like nacho's, pizza, burgers, and Chinese food. Mom pulled a lot of doubles and she’d leave me money on the table to get something delivered. What about you? I'm sure your mother hosted fancy dinner parties."

He stopped the cart in the produce section and began to pick up different types of fruits, smelling some of them. "Yes, she did, and my mother believed in the children should be seen and not heard rule. I’ve sat through a countless boring dinners, which I escaped whenever I could as I got older. But on the other side of the coin, I've visited a lot of open air markets in my travels, and yes, I've eaten out a lot. But before the island, the closest thing to my preparing food at home was ordering pizza."

"Awe, and we’ve found common ground food wise. Pizza the universal take-out food." She used her fingers and acted like she was talking on the phone.

He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure this town has pizza delivery, but I need to figure out how to eat better. And I like eating at home with you. I want to cook, and I'm hardly an expert, but I’ll teach you what I know if you want to learn. We could cook together."

She noted he’s called this place home, and she smiled. 

Looking at the crackers on the end of the aisle, she grabbed a box and dropped them in the cart. "Alright I could try if we do it together. What do you like to eat?"

"Well I like fruit." He stopped in front of the apples.

The produce section was huge and interesting, for it contained a lot of produce she’d never seen before. And she watched him as he carefully chose two green apples, two kiwis, and a mango and placed them in a plastic bag and put the bag in the cart.

"What kind of fruit do you like to eat?"

"Fruit?"

"Yes, you’ve heard of it? It grows on trees or bushes mainly and it's called healthy."

"Oh, no wonder I’ve never heard of it." She tipped her head to one side.

He smiled his goofy smile back at her, shook his head, and she gave a small laugh. "Trust me, I know what an apple is. I’ve seen the movie Snow White."

“Snow White?”

“Yeah, wicked witch, magic mirror, poison apple? The Prince who kissed her?” He gave her a blank stare. “Oh, never mind you’re a guy.”

He broke out laughing. "Alright, I’m messing with you. I had a little sister. I know who Snow White is. Back to apples, do you ever eat one? Here do you recognize this?"

He held up an orange, and she grabbed it and tossed it back at him, knowing that he teased her. She wanted to tell him how was refreshing to see him at ease, to see him like this with no stress, no real worries, but he probably shut the emotion down she mentioned it.

"I think they make juice out of it."

"Very funny."

"So do you want one?"

"No, not really."

"You need to work on that. You need to eat fruit. It’s good for you."

"I never knew you had a fruit fetish."

"It's hard to tamper with fruit."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

"Now you're lying again. Admit it. You don't have to tell me what you meant, but admit you’re lying."

Grabbing his hand, she forced him to stop and look at her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to question him about Ra's drugging his food while his time in Nanda Parbat. It’d be easy to ask him if he’d starved himself to avoid the poison and that was the reason he’d dropped muscle and weight.

“Felicity what?”

And he’d lie to her if she ask him.

She shut her eyes, knowing if she mentioned Ra’s name, he’d lie and his lies would ruin their day.

But still she couldn't let it go completely.

"Come on, admit you’re lying," she encouraged him.

"Maybe." He pulled his hand away and headed down the aisle.

"Maybe? Which means what? You agree? Or that you’re lying?" 

She moved, as he left her behind.

"What you said." He threw the words over his shoulder.

"You’re being confusing on purpose. Oh, never mind. We both know you're lying. But, Oliver, if you want your PTSD to get better, you need to figure out why you lie all the time. You need to understand lying’s one of your coping skills. It's a sign of your PTSD."

"It is not a sign of PTSD. I . . ." He stopped the cart, glaring at her.

“I’ll point out that you didn’t use the words ‘my PTSD.’" She made finger quotes and he grimaced. “And I note you’re not claiming or agreeing to having PTSD. But you get points for actually saying the letters.”

He whitened, as she stepped into his space and took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his as she pressed her body against his using her other arm to pull him into a hug.

"People with PTSD use avoidance, something you’re a champion at by the way, as a way to not deal with their problems. You don't talk about those bad things you experienced because talking about them would make them real and you lie to avoid talking about them. Like right now. You throw out some out of way comment and clam up."

"I don't do that." But his large arms wrapped around her, pulled her close, as his chin came to rest on the top of her head.

"Yes, you do. You lie and say nothing happened, that you’re fine. Your lying allows you to not deal with what happened to you. It allows you to ignore the bad things people have done to you.”

“And you need to stop reading psych webpages. I’m fine. A lot better than earlier this year. Let’s get this shopping done.”

“Seriously, Oliver,” she looked up at him, “stop lying, not only to me, but to yourself. People have done horrible things to you and you need to deal with them. And the first step is to stop using lying as avoidance, so you don't have to deal with things. It was a simple yes or no question. Is it hard to tamper with fruit? Yes or no."

"Fine. Yes, it’s hard to tamper with fruit. Now would you stop psychoanalyzing me, Felicity?" He stared her down, his face hard and his glare piercing as he released her and took a step back. She could see the Arrow, and maybe the Hood, in his hard glare.

But she didn’t back down.

She met his hard glare with her own. "No, Oliver, I won’t. And good word." She reached out and patted him on the chest, "for a guy who flunked Into to Psychology."

"How did you know that? Oh, never mind."

"If it’s on the internet I can find it." She smiled sweetly at him and he frowned back.

"If I’d have gone to class, I’d have passed." His chest puffed out, his pecs straining his button up shirt.

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda.” She waved her pointer finger at him.

And he laughed before he shook his head, and she watched him reach for his avoidance, his way of coping, as he ended the conversation by turning to salad choices.

Watching him, he chose romaine lettuce, red lettuce, baby carrots, a cucumber, something yellow, maybe a squash. But she wasn't sure, but she recognized the red pepper he added to the bag. 

Broccoli and a small head of cauliflower came next and a few what the sign called Yukon gold potatoes, joined the other veggies in the cart.

"Felicity, are you a ranch fan?"

"With like veggies?"

"I'd say from your face that’d be a no. We need to work on you eating healthier."

"So you're a veggie fan too? Who knew?"

"Yes, I like fresh veggies."

"Well, I like a good salad bar. In a good restaurant. But I’d bet it's hard to tamper with veggies too."

Once again, he grinned as he placed celery in the cart. “And no peanut butter since you’re allergic."

"Yes, NO, peanut butter and celery for you. And you avoided my question."

"It's not a problem." His grin sincere. "I gave up anything with nuts in it over a year ago."

"Why would you do that? I'm the one with the allergy, not you."

"Because you're worth it. I’d never want you to be sick."

"Oliver, I don't understand."

"Well, I was thinking about kissing you, so I gave up nuts a long time ago."

"For a year? You’ve been thinking about kissing me for a year?" 

Frack that warmed her heart, he gave up nuts for her. Awe! Now that was sweet.

"At least, probably longer." He pushed the cart toward the dairy section, and she couldn't help the smile that lit her face. He added a carton of eggs, a carton of sour cream, yuck, into the cart. Reaching, he added two half gallons of milk and orange juice.

"Two, Oliver?"

"Yes." He pointed at the cartons. "A his and a hers."

"Seriously, you tell me you’ve been thinking about kissing me for over a year, and you're still flipped out over me drinking out of the carton?"

"Look I’m not being unreasonable. I’m buying you your own carton. Now will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Leave mine alone. But I'll take all the kisses you’ll give me." And he leaned over and kissed her right in front of the cheese section.

"I guess I can live with that." And she grinned, since he was being normal, silly almost. Yesterday, he’d ran from her and today, he takes her to the grocery store and teases her about kisses, milk and juice.

"Good, I’ll write my name on it." He gave her another quick peck on her lips and turned to picked out several types of cheese.

Heart racing, she added some sharp cheddar to the cart. Okay, she had cheese and crackers now, her shopping was pretty well complete.

As Oliver pushed the cart toward the meat case, she wondered exactly what he’d buy next. Stopping in front of the steaks, he turned to her. "I know you eat steak and chicken. What about veal? Pork?"

"I admit I like the buffet at the steak house and the chicken place. But, I'll pass on the veal, Remember, I don't cook, Oliver. Well, I’ve cooked Ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese, and I know how to microwave frozen stuff, with the best of them. I mean, I went to college remember?"

"MIT, how could I forget. Well, I know a couple of good chicken dishes. I know you eat rice, pasta, though let me point out that I don't consider Ramen noodles to be pasta."

"Have you ever tried Ramen noodles?"

"Yes, and that would be why I don't consider them to be pasta. And the sodium is off the charts."

"Where’d you learn to cook, Oliver?"

"China, Russia, a lot in Russia and on the island. I had to learn or starve."

"Did you starve, Oliver?"

She expected him to lie, but instead, he turned to her and simply said, "Yes."

"A lot? I hope you weren't hungry often?"

"No, only sometimes," he said with a wistful tone. "And believe me, you can be hungry for a long time without dying, especially when you don't have a choice."

"Well, today we have a choice." She smiled at him, for she knew he liked her smiles, and he was getting better at sharing small parts of himself, and she wanted to reward him. "Well, what's for dinner today?"

"Do you want to eat in or out?"

She reached for his hand and squeezed. "In. You want to eat at home? Sounds good. You can cook for me? Maybe show me how? That might be fun. Something we can do together."

"Yeah, I’d like that. What do you want to eat?""

"Steaks? Salad? Baked potato? Will you teach me?"

"Of course, we’ll do it together." The look he gave her warmed her heart.

"Sounds good. I’d like that. Do we have ketchup?"

He laughed and said, "Of course, we do. Come on, let's go find the ice cream. I missed ice cream while I was gone. I’ll let choose the flavor."

“You’ll let me. Whatever.”

They headed down the canned food aisle when there a loud crash. Oliver instantly reacted by pushing her behind him and grabbing a can of food to use for a weapon.

Felicity froze as she waited for an attack and realized it was okay. She grabbed his tense arm. "It's okay, Oliver, we're safe. Someone knocked something over. We're okay. Small town remember. Put it down."

He returned the can to the shelf, spinning it so the label matched the others. "I'm sorry, I thought."

"Shh, I know what you thought, let it go and let's go get ice cream." She gave him a quick kiss and turned and walked away from him and he slowly followed.

She tried to let the fact he had overreacted go, but she knew again this was a sign of his PTSD, for he was always ready for someone to attack. Not that he didn't have good reason to be paranoid. She turned the topic to what favor of ice cream to buy, trying to get the good mood back but the impression on his face plainly said he was angry again.

He kept his silence though the checkout and while he loaded the groceries in the car.

Climbing in, she turned to him. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.” And he put the car in gear and she let him be quiet and instead turned on the radio and found the local the top 40’s station.

####OQ#####

They started dinner, and he lit the grill on the back porch. Together, they seasoned their way through two steaks, and they talked about normal things like garlic and fresh ground pepper and other spices, as she watched how to YouTube videos on her tablet, and they wondered their way through making dinner together.

He showed her how to wash and chop the vegetables, and they got in a debate about if the lettuce should be torn or cut, and he only had to kiss her once or twice or maybe three times, and she loved it and him. But she finally agreed that he was right that the lettuce needed torn, after she looked it up on the internet, though she still couldn't see why you couldn't just cut it with a knife and be done with it.

And as the time passed, she noted that every time he got the chance, he’d touch her.  He seemed on a mission to make her crazy touching her.

But hadn't he always touched her?

Yes, he had.

For years, he’d touched her shoulders, her hands, and her face. But today, seemed special somehow, for his hands would linger, every time he got close he’d reached for her and smile, his sexy smile.

He drove her crazy.

"If you don't stop touching me, we’ll burn dinner." She finally said as his hand drew a line down her back when he stood beside her.

"What? I’m addicted to touching you, what can I say?" He put both hands palm up in the air.

"I like touching you too but you’re turning me on, and I’m hungry. Are those steaks done yet?"

He grinned turning toward the door. "I'll check."

A little later, they sat at the small kitchen table eating.

"We need to buy a crock pot. It would make dinner simpler when you start working, and I start coaching."

"I don't know what language you’re speaking. But I'm game, if you are. Will you teach me? I liked making dinner with you tonight. It was fun, relaxing, well in a sexy kind of way."

“Sure, I’d love to in a sexy kind of way.” He winked at her as she watched him set his fork down and smile at her.

She cut a bite of steak and popped it in her mouth. “This steak is delicious.”

“Not too much garlic?” Oliver reached for his water glass and took a sip, returning the glass to the table before he reached for his napkin, wiping his mouth.

She ate a bite of her salad and he adjusted his water glass before he picked up his fork and pushed his salad around.   

"Okay, Oliver, why are you not eating? I see you moving your food around on your plate, but you're not eating it. And you hardly had a big portion to begin with. This isn't the first time I noticed either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about I saw you do that the night of our date at the hospital. I saw you move your food around and not eat, but I chalked it up to bad food. But the night I came home, I don't think you ate either. I know you didn't eat last night. Oliver, why are you not eating?”

She watched him frown slightly and tip his head to the right, before his hand reached and rubbed the back of his neck. Someone that didn't know him would never know he’d slipped his mask into place and had switched his emotions off.

But she knew him.

"No, I'm eating." And he took a bite of his salad and chewed slowly, as if to prove a point.

"I don’t believe you. No, Oliver, you’ve only eaten a few bites the entire meal, and you're still losing weight. What’s going on with you?"

"Nothing, I'm."

She talked over him, pointing her finger at him. "Don't you say that word, unless you want to fight. I want the truth. Don't avoid. Don't lie. Face it. You said you would try. Start by telling me the truth."

He laid his fork carefully down and played with his water glass again, and took a small sip before he looked at his plate. "For a while, I haven't been eating in the evening, Felicity. I normally drink some juice and . . ." He waited and pressed his lips together in a frown before he said quietly, "and if I eat, the food will come back up."

"Why? Oh, OH, never mind, I withdraw the question. I know."

It was the dream.

Holy frack, she knew later tonight, he would likely throw up whatever he ate, and he wasn’t eating on purpose. Plainly put. Less food equaled less vomit.

Her brain began to process.

His continued weight loss, his muscle loss, and his moving the food around on his plate but not eating. Oliver starved himself in the evenings. He put on a show for her. No wonder he ate huge breakfasts every morning and a big lunch, since he didn’t sleep in the afternoon, which meant no throwing up.

No wonder he’d gone for a run this morning while she’d napped. He didn't want to dream. What she could say to him? That the dream would just go away? Want ever she did she didn’t want make this worse for him, so she let the silence continue.

As the silence grew, he stood and scraped his plate and salad bowl into the trash. Moving, putting his broad back to her, he started cleaning the kitchen up and putting up the leftover food.

She stood and took care of her own dishes, and when the kitchen was clean, she reached for his hand. "Want to go watch the sunset with me?"

"I'd like that."

"Me too, give me a minute." She disappeared into the bedroom and put on that tiny red polka dotted swim suit, slipping her sundress over top of it. As she crossed the living room, she grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and joined him on the porch.

Together, they walked to the beach, holding hands.

She spread the blanket on the sand, and Oliver sat down. She sat and scooted between his legs, leaning hard against his chest. His arms came up to hold her, as she tucked herself under his chin, and she felt him sigh deeply.

"Stop thinking, Oliver. Stop dreading. You're giving the dream more power. And you’re stressing. You have to stop thinking about it.”

“It’s not that easy to turn it off.”

“I know but we'll figure it out. Hey, look at the sunset, feel me in your arms, and think about right now. Capture this moment in your mind. We’re lucky to be here together. Just think, I'm home. Neither of us is sick. And I love you. Trust me, believe it. I love you."

"I love you, too. You're right, we’re lucky. I'm delighted you’re here with me and well again," he said softly, as his hands tighten a bit and in silence, they watched the orange ball slip into the water, while the tiny sand pipers, on their tiny legs, chased the waves.

After the sunset, she wiggled out of his arms and stood and stripped off her sundress. Grinning mischievously at him, she sat down on the throw across from him, and she ran her hands down her body. "Well we’re on the beach, I have this awesome suit."

“Damn, Felicity.”

The look on his face intense and priceless as she said, "The sun’s gone down, and I’d say the ball's in your court."

He swallowed hard. "You hear everything I said when you were sick, didn't you?"

She nodded. "Pretty much, except when I was asleep. Is this what you imagined?"

"Better." His wicked grin shot straight to her core, as he pounced and had her laying on her back, before she knew what happened.

Instant desire flooded, she arched into his body, she body ready, stoked from the fire for him that’d he been building all afternoon by touching her. And she hoped he’d take her in a hard rush after all that touching he had been doing, which was good with her, for she was ready for him.

But instead his touches turned slow and gentle, and she wanted to rush. But, no, when she pushed at his shirt seeking his skin, he unbuttoned it enough to pull it over his head, then he grabbed her hands and held them above her head, and she sucked in her breath.

"Hold on the blanket, Felicity, remember this is my fantasy, now you have the control, it's your turn to take the pleasure and if you let go, I'll stop."

"Damn, your memory."

"Oh, I remember everything about you. Hold on to the blanket, Felicity. Hold on to it tightly."

And his hands and mouth went to work.

And, yes, he was in no rush, no hurry. His hot mouth found hers and kissed her repeatedly, slowly, lingeringly. His fingers were lazy, careful on her body, as he slowly traced her skin, touching gently, carefully, as he took her high enough she wondered if she’d even come back down, and she ached, throbbed at her very center for him.

And, he never removed the bikini, never touched anywhere it covered and it was slowly making her completely insane, as he repeatedly touched and dropped kisses next to the lines of her bikini. Drawing the lines, with his mouth and fingers around that bikini, he made her insane with want for him. The sound of the waves receded, as her heart raced. Heaven help her, he was going to make her come without even taking her clothes off.

"That's nice to know I could do that."

"I did not say that out loud. Oh, yes, right there Oliver, right fracking there."

His mouth kissed the V between her breasts and it was the most erotic thing ever, as her breasts strained, became heavy, as she ached for his hands and mouth, and she arched her back into his mouth, while she said in a desperate tone, "Do I have to take it off myself, Oliver? Do you want me to beg? I will."

"This is better than what I imagined, since now I’m making it up as I go along. You’re sexy, lovely. Let me taste you. We've got all night."

"Take it off now, Oliver."

"Where’s your patience?"

“Gone.”

But he put his mouth on her nipple though the swimsuit, and she arched for him, as the material intensified the cool night air, making her nipple hard and aching, as he moved to the next breast.

Raggedly, she inhaled sharply, as he sucked hard and moved down the edge of the bikini and down her stomach, placing butterfly kisses on her skin. While, his hands reached to tweak her nipples, making her moan as his mouth headed south.

She needed his mouth. "Help me, Oliver."

"Shh, I will right now. God, I love the way you taste." His mouth touched her through the fabric, as she begged him, mindless now, as she let go of the blanket and wrapped her hands around his head and pressed him to her, as she rode the wave of pure pleasure.

But he didn't stop, no, he stripped her bikini bottoms off her.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, touch me.” She couldn’t be still as his large fingers slowly found her, curling until he found her and again his mouth was soft.

She barely noticed when he untied her top because he found her bare breast, his mouth hard now, nipping her, his fingers on her and in her, pulling every emotion from her, making his touch seem timeless, with no hurry, no rush, until she couldn't stand it anymore.

“Please, I need.” She begged him before she exploded under his hands, under his mouth.

His kisses turned long and slow, sweet and easy, as he cherished her and slowly brought her back up, higher and higher, until she was almost crying with need when he finally lost his clothes and slowly entered her.

He reached, tipped her chin up, and met her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held his gaze, and she saw his love in his rich blue eyes, as it poured out of him and into her. Reaching, he found her hands, linking his fingers with hers.

Slowing the pace, he made sweet, unhurried love to her, with her, until the greed completely overtook her, and she pulled her hands from his to grab him and pushed him desperately to rush, to hurry, to finish it.

“Now, Oliver, now. More now.” She dug her fingertips into his skin, slamming her body up to greet him, rushing him.

His breathing changed, became ragged and she knew she’d managed to break his iron control with her body. Her hands and her mouth touched his skin and both of them rushed, hurried, raced to ragged completion, to grasp that last wonderful moment that merged them.

Later, she lay boneless on his broad chest, his arms wrapped around her body, the throw somewhat covering them, she traced over the somewhat fresh scar with her fingertips.

"They don't bother you do they?" His voice quiet and questioning, hesitant. “My chest’s a mess.”

She soothed his scars with her fingertips. "No, the scars are what make you MY man, and they all mean something. Like this one." She traced the scar softly again, the terrible one from the mountain top. "This one almost took you from me, but this scar also brought you back to me. This one gave you the strength to want to become us."

Her hand moved to the one where his mother had shot him, right above his pounding heart. "And this one sealed our fate from the beginning, from the very beginning. This scar brought us together."

His arms tightened slightly and he kissed the top of her head.

He understood and finally believed she did love him, and she wanted him to stay with her.

Sighing, content, she molded herself to him. "I'm glad you've accepted it, Oliver."

"What?"

"Us, that there’s an us. Too good to be true or not, there’s an us. Believe it. Own it."

He sighed and his chest heaved beneath her. "I promise I won't leave you again, Felicity.”

“Good, since I’ll find you if you run.” She hugged him tightly.

He barked a laugh. “Don’t I know that. But I’ve thought about us a lot today. I want you know that I’ve made a lot of bad choices this year but I’m choosing you now. I’ve come to terms with it. I love you, Felicity. And frankly, you're stuck with me now. You know that don't you?”

"I love you too, Oliver, all of you, scars, dreams, PSTD and all. And guess what?"

"What?"

"You're stuck with me too. But, now I'm cold and tired, and I’m ready to go back in the house. Good thing you like carrying me, since it's your fault I can’t walk."

And he laughed as he scooped her up. "And it would be my pleasure to carry you home."

“Yeah, let’s go home, Oliver.” And she buried her face in his neck. “How can you be this sweaty and smell this good?”

“I don’t know but you’re the same way. I love the way you smell, Felicity.”

#####OQ#####

After a quick shower to wash off the sand, she crawled back in bed. He reached and pulled her into his arms, and she yawned repeatedly, with her head on his chest, while he toyed with her hair.

"Oliver, I hate to ruin the mood, especially after such a pleasant day and let me say, mind blowing sex.”

“Yeah, I’ll second that. Don’t ruin the mood, Felicity. You’re tired go to sleep.”

“But . . .”

“Sleep, Felicity.” He drew her name out, syllable by syllable.

“Not yet. I've been reading.”

“When haven’t you been reading?”

“Stop interrupting me. I’ve been reading about how to help you with your dreams."

He jumped, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply, and nearly dumped her off his chest before he settled back into the pillow.

"I’ve been reading about Imagery Rehearsal Therapy or IRT. Mae suggested I look it up and I did." She waited but he said nothing. "Okay, moving on. It’s simpler than you would think. Imagine your dream’s like a movie you don't like the ending to and it need you to need rewrite it.”

“I can’t rewrite my dream. Trust me it doesn’t work that way.” His heart beat sped up and she smoothed his chest with hand, then patted.

“Listen. Give me a chance to explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“You think about the rewrite for five to ten minutes before you go to sleep, and I guess the brain realizes that the new ending’s better, and your brain replaces the bad ending with the good. Now let's make up another ending to your dream."

"Felicity, there’s no way that will work."

"How do you know? Have you tried?"

"Well, no, but how could it be that easy?"

She heard the disbelief in his voice, but she pushed him anyway. "Well you’ll probably have to do it more than once until the dream goes away. But come on, Oliver, let's try it. What do you have to lose?"

"Felicity, darn it, I was happy a second ago. Did you have to bring up the dream? Please, don’t go there tonight."

"Going there. You and I,” she pointed at her chest. “We both need to sleep more, and you need to eat more. You’re still losing weight, Oliver. This dream’s making you sick and I’d like you to eat dinner with me, not watch you push your food around on the plate."

He answered her with silence.

"Do you want to argue, Oliver? I'm tired, but I’ll do it."

"No, I don't want to argue, and now you know I hate to argue, you’re using it against me. And no, I don't want to talk about the dream either, Felicity. I can't. Give me a little more time, please let it go."

"Two pleases from you in a matter of minutes. Wow."

He started to get up but she said, "Shh, you don't have to talk about the dream. I don't want you to tell me about it. I want you to escape from it. I want you to understand that you didn’t deserve what happened to you, that it isn't your fault, and that those people chose to hurt you. So, remember only yes or no questions unless you want to share. You can do this. Try! Be like Sara and take baby steps."

"Okay." But he didn't sound sure about it, and she could tell he was humoring her as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest.

"First is it dark or light in the dream?"

“Dark.”

“You can’t see?”

Silence first before he said in a strained tone, "No, not well."

She wondered why he couldn't see but didn't ask, instead she asked. "Do you like not being able to see?" She could hear his heart speeding up, and she stroked his chest. "You can do this, Oliver. Yes or no. One word."

"No," he said it softy, sharply.

"Then that’s the first thing to change. Think about the dream and think that you can see, nothing’s wrong with your eyes."

"Okay." She felt him swallow hard.

"You said you were chained. We need to fix that. What can you escape, Oliver? Zip ties, rope, handcuffs?" Her silly mind turned to 50 Shades, and she realized tying each other up wasn’t in their future. Hmm, that was almost a shame.

"I break a zip tie pretty easy."

"Okay change the chains to a zip tie."

"I can't believe we’re having this conversation. You do realize I’m never going to be into tying each other up, don't you?"

"Stay focused, Oliver." And she was glad that he couldn't see the blush that stole across her face. "You can see and now you can escape. Do you want to kill them, Oliver? I personally want to kill them, but it's your call."

He laughed a little, his chest rumbling beneath her and his hands tightened on her body. "Ruthless aren't you?"

"When it comes to someone hurting you, yes."

"I remember. But no, I’ll just put the fear of God into them."

She giggled, remembering the first time he’d said those words to her "I was in love with you way back then, Oliver."

"I knew, but didn't want to encourage you. I should have encouraged you, Felicity. I’d have been here sooner. And I truly like here." His hands again tighten on her body, and he hugged her.

"We can't go back, Oliver. We can only go forward, together. You and me. Now run the dream through in your head a couple of times. Start to finish, image it. You can see. You can break free. You teach them a lesson and you escape."

"And after I escape?"

"Well come and find me, and I'll give you a wet dream."

"You’re bad hiding under all that sweetness. Who knew? Yes, I differently should have encouraged you."

Rolling, he flipped her on her back, and she laughed, as he kissed her soundly and both of them forgot about the dream for a little while.

#####OQ#####

The strong hands held him, shoving him hard under the frigid water, trapping him. His panic grew. His head pounded. His chest and lungs ached. Fighting against the men holding him, he needed to breathe.

Drowning, in the cold water, he was drowning again. The strong hands jerked him up, and the light from a bare bulb blinded him, when they pulled him up out of the water. He grabbed a quick breath, as the strong hands pushed him under again, and he realized something was wrong.

His arms were chained, no, not chained. Where was the blood? He was supposed to have blood running slick down his wrists and hands from fighting the chains.

This was wrong.

The chains were gone, and a zip tie restrained him now, and he sucked water from shock. Someone punched him hard in the kidney, and he sucked the cold water in, swallowing hard, choking.

Jerking him out of the water, a large man slapped him repeatedly while he was blind, and he was gagging from the water.

He couldn't stop gagging, as he vomited the water.

"You will tell me."

"I don't know." He screamed at them. If he could get lose, he thought, and I’ll kill you all.

His eyes snapped open, and for the first time, he could clearly see the large dark haired man, with a jagged scar on his cheek, who was slapping him. He looked right at the man who’d drowned him repeatedly, clearly saw the man who was making his life a living hell. With a roar, he broke free of the zip tie, which snapped like paper from his wrists.

Catching the man's hand, before he could hit him again, he twisted hard and broke the man's wrist, and the bone exploded with a sharp satisfying snap, as he came up off his knees in fury of motion.

The man howled, and he elbowed the other man behind him hard. Turning on his heel, he punched the next man solid in the face, breaking his nose, driving the man to his knees and grabbed the other man's head and connected it hard to his knee.

It felt good, right and he punched the man again.

It was over in seconds. All three men lay prone on the floor, and turning, he kicked the barrel of water over, spilling frigid cold water to the floor, and he watched it rush across the concrete floor. Destroying the barrel, he destroyed the defibrillator, throwing it against the wall, breaking it into small pieces, and he crushed it under his boot until there was nothing left of the machine.

He destroyed everything, never would these men drown him and shock him to bring him back to awareness, so they could never do the same terrible things to him ever again. No, they’d never drown him and revive him again.

"Oliver, it's okay, shh. I'm right here."

She was on the com, in his ear, her sweet voice with him, as it should be.

Which was wrong and he knew it.

"Felicity? You're not supposed to be here? I haven't met you yet. Saw you but not met you, yet."

"Shh, you're dreaming, talking in your sleep, Oliver. Shh, hold me. I'm right here. You're safe. Go back to sleep. Rest, I'm right here with you."

He floated between sleep and waking, but he inhaled her vanilla scent, felt her warm body next to his, her bare back pressed against his bare chest, her ass pressed against him, and he sighed deeply, slid his hand to cup her breast and slept on, content with his world.

#####OQ#####

As normal now, the sun was shining brightly when he woke up, and she was gone. He stretched, feeling better than he had in a long time, rested, and he realized he’d escaped in the dream, not only had he escaped the men, he’d kicked their butts.

Not what had happened in real life, but it made for a much better dream. It was unbelievable Felicity had helped him to escape in the dream. He’d slept straight through and not awoken puking in the middle of the night sick from the water. He scrubbed his face with his hands and smiled since for the first time in almost a month, he’d actually slept through the dream.

It was almost a miracle.

Grabbing his phone, he powered it up and while waiting for it to load, he got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned the phone had booted, and he checked the time and was 9:38. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he realized he’d slept over seven hours straight. Wow, seven was a record. When was the last time he’d slept over three or four hours in a row without waiting up sick?

He jumped in the shower.

“Oliver are you humming?” A naked Felicity opened the shower door.

“Maybe . . yeah, I guess I’m . . . happy.”

All thought process stopped as she stepped in the shower with him.

Instantly, he hardened.

"I’m glad. Yeah, I slept well. How about you?"

He pulled her into the spray. "It was amazing, just like you are. Your dream thing worked Felicity. I kicked their butts.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m proud of you, Oliver. You did it.”

“We did it. And I think you’re starting to like showers."

"Well you make showering a lot more fun, so I guess I can learn to make an exception. My," her hand reached for him before she said, "you're in a really good mood, I see. But since you slept late, we have to get a move on. Today we have lunch with Mae and her husband, and now I’ll have to dry my hair."

"Not a problem, I’ll be quick." He lifted her, and she wrapped herself around him and showed him how good his morning could be, and it was the best he’d felt in a long time.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read. More soon.

Thoughts? I would love to hear them.

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

  
#####OQ#####

Later, after their awesome shower, and his tasty breakfast, he stood on the porch, watching the surf break, as he tapped his foot and looked at his watch. If she didn’t come on, they would late for lunch. The thought broke through his brain.

His Felicity was making them late and he didn’t even feel mad about it.

A slow smile moved across his face as he fixated on the word "his" and his chest swelled, realizing he'd finally done some growing up.

In his younger days, if a woman irritated him, if she left him to cool his heels for a date, he'd been a jerk back then. Make him wait and he'd leave them to catch up with him later a party or not at all. Yeah, sometimes he'd even pick someone else up and his supposed date could walk away pissed.

His self-centered ass could have cared less but he would never leave his Felicity behind. Not after all the years he'd spent wanting and not having. They were a couple and together as a couple. He fought a huge satisfied smile that wanted to settle on his face since he stood there content and happy.

You might have PTSD, his mind whispered. You’re damaged goods. One day she’ll figure it out and leave you.

Shut up, he told his brain.

Instead, he thought of her, and he allowed his smile as she opened the door and stood there in her pencil skirt and a flowered blouse, her hair down and he swallowed hard as his heart raced.

And he reached out his hand to take her and guided her down the steps in her heels, while his mind raced thinking about stripping her bare.

"You know being late’s my thing not yours," he told her, with a slight grin, as they got into the car.

"Sorry, it took forever to dry my hair. You and your shower put me behind schedule.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He touched her face.

 “Quit, I still need to work on my makeup." She already had a small bag unzipped and her hands worked on her face.

"You don’t need it. You look wonderful." He grabbed another gear, speeding, to make up time.

She pulled the visor down and applied bright red lipstick using the mirror.

"I don't know why you're bothering."

She stopped in mid lipstick applying. "Huh?"

"You're wasting your time putting on lipstick, since I plan to kiss off of you in a couple of hours."

He took his eyes off the road in time to see her smile and say smugly, "My lipstick’s kiss proof." Then she popped her lips in a kiss at him and winked, and he wanted to turn the car around and prove to her that he could kiss her lipstick off.

"I guess I’ll have to put your lipstick to the test later." Jesus, he loved this part of normal, just like he loved her. And his silly smile crept back onto his face.

As he pulled into the driveway, she turned and touched his face, dragging her thumb down his cheek before she grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. "You've got goofy grin."

“Maybe.”

She laughed as he down shifted and parked the car.

"See, we're right on time." She smoothed her hair, as they entered the small family style restaurant around one.

Tall, still fit, he gauged Mae's husband to be in his early 60's. The man had broad shoulders, a wide chest and sported a small gray mustache, along with his three-piece suit.

His intense gray eyes glared into his, clearly gauging his worth.

And he could see “the judge” plainly in this man. His blank face spoke volumes that this man was obviously used to controlling his surroundings right down to when he smiled. He could identify since he possessed his own mask. Yet, he saw the clear flicker of distasteful in the man’s eyes when his eyes swept over him.

"Mr. Queen, I heard how you saved my wife's life. I want to thank you."

Warren shook his hand, with an overly firm grip. A strong grip he didn’t need in his opinion, but he didn't crush the judge's hand back. He'd learned years ago to withhold his show of strength, to appear weak, stupid, since it gave him an instant edge on his opponent, and he wasn't sure if he faced a friend or foe.

So he played weak Oliver.

Jesus, he should have been an actor.

He placed his fake smile on, slipped on his mask. "Please, call me Oliver, and you're welcome, but it anyone could have done what I did."

"And you may call him, Warren." Mae’s voice dry. "And, I find that hard to believe. Remember I was there? The young man was higher than a kite and had a gun. Everyone in the entire room was screaming and running and you walked in and took him out with a coffee pot, in a matter of minutes. You reminded me of James Bond. Thank you."

“It was my pleasure and you’re welcome.” He gave a slight bow.

Mae laughed and squeezed her husband's hand, who pressed her hand back and kissed her hand, before he winked and released her.

“James Bond, huh?” Warren questioned.

Knowing the man attempted to size him up, he let the comment pass, as he met the man's intense and questioning glaze.

"And I’m Felicity Smoak."

"My fiancée," he broke in, and he couldn't help the pride in his voice.

Mae's face lit up into a wide grin, and she hugged them both. "Well, congratulations are in order. You need to let us throw you an engagement party. Felicity, we'll talk. Oliver, it’s about time you ask her."

Mae’s pride washed over him like warm water. He’d spent time with Mae, during Felicity hospital stay, and although, he found her a bit eccentric, she plainly had her heart in the right place, and he genuinely liked and respected the older woman. Not to mention, she’d saved Felicity’s life, something he would owe her for forever. "Thank you, Mae," he said quietly.

"No ring, yet?" Mae gave him an encouraging grin.

"I'm working on it." His tone somber.

Felicity turned on him. "I hope you know I’d never wear one of YOUR mother's rings."

"Can we talk about this later?"

"I know you talked to your sister this morning." And the look she gave him was pointed. "And want to be clear I'm not wearing a ring that costs more than my apartment and car combined."

"Felicity. Maybe now is not the time for this discussion." He cleared his throat.

But she didn’t take the hint.

"I won't wear it, Oliver. I mean it. I'd be afraid I’d lose it or something bad would happen to it."

He tried not to look guilty since he'd sent Thea to check the vault for his grandmother's ring. A ring valued over at over ten thousand dollars.

Now, Warren cleared his throat, probably in an attempt not to laugh, and Mae broke the uncomfortable silence, by saying brightly, "I'm starving. Let's order shall we?"

"Yes," Felicity agreed. "Let's order. I'm not much of a breakfast person, so I adore lunch."

He sat there, worried about giving her his grandmother's ring, but he still noted Warren's eyes lit up when they fell on Felicity form, and even though he felt foolish, since he knew the man was no competition, a possessive tug clutched at him.

Stepping toward her, he couldn't stop from placing his hand on her elbow and steering her toward the chair next to Mae's. Then he sat between her and Warren.

A short time later, they’d ordered drinks and food and exhausted the nice weather topic and the how Felicity felt today topic. Talk had stayed far away from questions about rings or weddings.

But still relief filled him when the food arrived, since it gave them all something to do but talk. Until he realized eating a few bites filled him up since he had eaten a large breakfast. And, he’d spent too long starving in those five long years he’d been gone that he ate little and the last few months at Nanda Parbat had shrunk his stomach even further.

Plus, if he threw in his damn dream that had him throwing up these last few weeks, clearly his stomach had shrunk. Okay, hopefully he’d banished the dream, thanks to Felicity.

He found himself thinking about how long he’d suffered, and it’d been simple, easy to change the dream with her help. Yes, once again she'd been right and he hoped the damn dream never came back. Snapping back to sitting at the table, he realized Warren must have asked him something, and he’d zoned out, and now everyone looked at him.

As normal, Felicity jumped in and saved him by answering for him, "We're not sure how long we’re staying here yet." Then she kicked him under the table and gave him a clear PAY ATTENTION look.

Quickly, he turned the talk to Felicity upgrading the hospital's network, something he knew nothing about, and forced himself to pay attention, to gauge Warren's personality all while moving the food around on his plate.

"Oliver, is the food not to your liking?" Mae asked.

He gave her a small smile. "Large breakfast."

The waitress, who clearly knew the older couple, finally cleared the plates, and they ordered coffee, which he declined with the words, “I’m watching my caffeine.”

Then Felicity and Mae excused themselves for a minute leaving him alone with Warren.

The second they were out of earshot, Warren settled back in his chair. "So, tell me why you’d want to coach a team of misfit juveniles who are on their last chance, or they’re headed to jail and who’ll probably end up in prison?"

"I'm not sure I do. This was your wife's idea, not mine."

"Well, at least you're honest."

Not hardly ever but he held his silence.

"Well, I'm sorry I’ve wasted your time." Warren folded his napkin and laid it on the table.

"I haven't exactly said no yet."

"But you haven't said yes either." Warren leaned forward, his tone earnest. "You need to understand these kids need someone who’ll commit to them. Let me put my cards on the table, shall I?”

He nodded.

“I’m a juvenile judge and how I ended up here, I won’t go into but I am. It’s my job and one I take seriously. And I have an abundance of deadbeat dads and now deadbeat moms that don’t take their jobs as parents seriously, which leaves an abundance of kids caught in a broken system. You'd be surprised how many moms turn their backs and walk off and never look back. So these kids have had enough people who bailed on them when the going gets tough, and what I don't need is a man who'll run at the first sign of trouble."

His stomach plunged, thankful those words hadn’t come from Felicity’s mouth. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, as he remembered he'd endangered her by running from her.

“Now what I do have is a group of bright teenagers who could do something with their lives other than spend their lives in the jail. If we can change their paths, give them something positive to be a part of, we could change their lives.” 

Warren's passion for his project shown in his eyes and voice, and to have passion for something he understood. He looked deep to Warren's gray eyes and stated, "I normally don't commit to things I don't want to do unless I have a good reason, and if I do bother to commit to something, then I see it through to the end."

"Brave words, but frankly, I've looked you up and there's a lot to read, most of it not good. First a regular bad boy in your youth, and then supposedly marooned on an island for five years?"

He bit his lip and kept his silence.

Warren waited and then continued, "And in the time since your rescue, you've been shrouded in accusations, some serious accusations. I really don't understand what I've found. Who are you exactly?"

What could he say?

Hi, I’m a damaged ex-billionaire, ex-play boy, ex-assassin, ex-torturer, and the man, who used to be the Hood, then the Arrow, the heir to Ra's who handed over the reign of the League of Assassins to a psychopathic liar because I’m a man in love, and I wanted to be with Felicity. Or how about I’m a total mess inside, and I keep making bad choices and becoming a coach might be just another bad choice.

No, that sounded crazy, even to him.

Warren tapped his fingers against the table. "And you answer me with silence? I find silence to be an admission of guilt in my courtroom. Something I put people in jail for."

Oh yes, the man glared at him with his tough judge stern look. He'd seen judges with that look before, back in his youth when his parents' influence and money insured that all the judges gave him was a stern look and an official warning.

But he’d grown up a lot since then, and he met Warren's hard look with one of his practiced own. "We aren't in your courtroom, and I'm just a man, yes, a man with certain skills, but I don't believe you’re looking for someone that came from a business meeting, wearing a three-piece suit."

Warren laughed before adding, "No, you’re right, I need someone from the wrong side of the tracks, someone who can handle themselves."

"Someone these kids can't bully around, you mean."

"Exactly, the last coach only lasted two practices and then quit because he broke his arm. Of course, he refused to say how he broke his arm."

Now that told him volumes, and brought out his dark voice, "I’m not going to let them hurt me. And they won't break my arm, teens or not, I’ll defend myself if need be."

"So, my wife told me, and I would expect you to defend yourself, but I would also expect you to try not to hurt them. They may look grown up, but they’re still juveniles. And I don’t want to see the headline, 'Soccer Coach puts Teenager in the Hospital.' Whatever happens, no bad press. It would be horrible for the program."

"I know how to restrain someone without leaving marks."

"I'm sure you do. Again, I want to thank you for stopping that kid from shooting Mae that night in the ER." Warren leaned forward. "I love my wife. And if Mae thinks you’d be good at being a coach, then I’m willing to give you a chance.”

“That’s good to know but I hear a but.”

“You’re right. But I need to know you’re vested in this project, so can you give one good reason why an ex-playboy like you would even be interested in coaching? Why you would even consider volunteering your time?"

Returning from their trip to the lady’s room, Felicity and Mae had stopped at the window deep in conversation, and he wondered what the older woman had told her when she frowned and shook her blonde head.

Giving a small nod toward them, he watched the women before looking back at Warren. "I owe your wife. She’s saved Felicity's life more than once, and I can never repay that. And Felicity wants to stay here a while, and she asked me to consider coaching. And since both Felicity and Mae believe it would be good for me to have something productive to do, I trust their judgments."

Warren turned and looked at the two women headed back to the table. He nodded his head and gave a slight knowing smile. "The things we do for our women." And he watched Warren look across the restaurant at his wife. "Yes, we as men can fool ourselves, but our women often decide what’s best for us. And as a man, who’s been married a long time, let me tell you from experience, Mae’s normally right in her decisions."

“I’ve noted she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Warren laughed and his eyes moved back to him, "Well that’s one way to describe her. Now do you have time to come by my office tomorrow around two? I'll get you copies of their case files, so you’ll understand what you're up against. Oh, and do you speak Spanish?"

"Very little."

"You might start learning if you want to know what they’re calling you. And I'd start with the insults."

He grinned and nodded his head. "Until tomorrow then."

Warren reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper. "Here's my card. My address is on it."

He took the card, and the discussion turned to sports as soon as the two women returned to the table.

#####OQ######

"You're too quiet. Spit it out."

Headed back to the house, he put his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. "Okay, what did Mae say to you this time?"

"How did you know?"

"Mind reader."

"You and your attempts at being funny. Keep trying." She gave him a small grin then ask, "Why didn't you eat lunch today?"

"I wasn't hungry. Remember, I ate a big breakfast."

"Three hours before hand. I thought we had this problem solved. You changed the dream last night. You didn't get sick. But, Mae pointed out to me that you didn’t eat. You pushed your food around on your plate. Why didn't you eat lunch?"

"Okay, I'm busted."

"That's all you’ve got to say that you're busted?"

"Well I am."

"Why, do you have to make talking to you so hard?"

He grinned. "Practice?"

"And at what age did you become convinced your smile got you out of trouble?"

He laughed and shrugged. "I don't know, but young, I'm sure."

"Probably still in the crib," she said dryly. "Now answer the question."

"What question?"

"Oliver!"

"I wasn't hungry." He hedged, not wanting to talk about why he ate so little, as memories of starving at Nanda Parbat filled his mind.

"Then I'll move on to the next question. Why have you lost a weight and muscle since our time together in Nanda Parbat? Where did your muscle go? Didn't Ra's feed you?"

He didn't want to talk about it, but she kept pushing, even after he parked the car and got out. Sitting down on the porch steps, he hung his head, willing her to stop pushing him, to stop asking questions about that time, and to just let it go, but he knew she didn’t like to let things go. No her brain didn’t work like that.

"You’re avoiding again."

"Yeah, I know I am."

"Tell me the truth, face this."

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I want to forget it. Please, Felicity, stop."

"But we both know the dreams won't let you forget and by suppressing the memories you’re asking the dreams to haunt you. Come on bring it in to the light." She reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his. "Do you want me to tell you what I think happened to you?"

She waited, but he let the silence continue, so she sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt with her hands. "I think Ra's did something to your food. Something that made you stop eating. I think you starved yourself. You’ve lost weight, and not just weight, you’ve lost muscle. What did Ra's do to you? You can tell me. Please tell me. Share and let it go."

He shut his eyes and his word came out bitter. "After you and the team left, I couldn't think if I ate their food. Not that Ra's wanted me to think. No, he wanted me to obey and to forget who I was, so I’m sure he ordered them to taint my food, to poison my food.”

“Oh, I knew it had to be something like that.”

“So, I could eat or I could think, and I needed to think, to plan. And I trained hard and the weight, the muscle fell off me. I trained hard, since I honestly wanted to kill him. I wanted to come home to you. I missed all of you, all of my team but I missed you the most."

And talking about Ra's built the anger in him, ignited his hate. His heart started to race, and he began to shake from the anger engulfing him.

"So you stopped eating didn't you? You ate fruit and veggies?"

"Yes, I ate a lot of fruit. I starved myself, so I could think. I was hungry all the time, but if I ate I wasn't me. And still they managed to get the poison in me. Even only eating and drinking a little I lost myself.” He placed his hand on his chest. “The part that’s me, disappeared, and I struggled to hold on. And the poison they fed me made me angry. . . . I . . . I stayed in a constant rage. I could barely contain myself. Ra’s wanted me to kill and I wanted to."

His hands had a slight tremble now, and he fisted them to make it stop, as his fury rose along with his heart rate.

"Ok, that makes sense. Thank you for sharing. I knew you weren’t yourself when you came to take Nyssa back to Ra’s. I just didn’t know why. So you can't eat very much right now, huh?"

"No, it’s like when I came home from the island. I'm struggling not to drop anymore weight. I can't eat enough to offset how much I’m running, so I keep dropping weight.”

“Maybe you could back off on the running?”

“I need to run, and I need to replace my muscle but my stomach’s small. I can't eat much at a time and the dream’s made me not want to eat at all. I can't talk about this anymore. I need to stop now." He put his head in his hands.

She touched his arm, and he flinched and shut his eyes to fight the burning rage inside him as the flashbacks started. All the things he didn't want her to know, the repeated beatings, his time in the dungeon, her death threats if he didn’t give her up, the senseless killing, his burning hate, his helplessness, all the evil things Ra's had done to him to try to suck him into the darkness.

His breath came in short gasps.

She talked to him, but he couldn't focus, and as he came back, he worried he’d lost control.

And he realized, he’d scared her, and he shook in fury. “Did I hurt you?”

"Shh, never, you did good telling me. Thank you for sharing but you need to come back. Don't think about that time anymore. Look at me. I don’t know where you are but come back to me."

Her frightened face came into clear view, and he felt her rubbing his back, trying to soothe him, and his mind savored her touch.

"Come on, back the anger down. Remember the sunset from the other night? Can you see it in your mind? Remember how happy we were. Reach for the good memory. Use it to push the bad away."

He listened to her words, as they calmed him. "Yes, see the orange sun sinking in the ocean, feel me in your arms. Remember the way you could smell the ocean." His breathing leveled out. His control returned. He stepped away from the anger, away from Ra's, and away from the darkness and back into the light that was pure Felicity.

"I can smell you," his voice quiet. "From the moment you enter a room, I smell you. I don’t know if it’s your shampoo or you, but I love the way you smell like vanilla and wildflowers and the way you taste drags me in." And he framed her face with his hand and gave her a soft kiss.

When he broke the kiss, she wrapped her arms around him. "I like the way you smell too, and I love the way you taste. Better now?"

He nodded then pulled her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her and breathing in her scent, and she grounded him, centered him.

She sighed and told him. "Mae wants you to have a full medical workup. She wants to check your heart, stay on top of your blood pressure and your cholesterol levels. She still believes you could have a heart attack or a stroke. And I don't want to lose you, so will you do the tests? Please, don't make me lose you." She turned and pressed her face into his chest, and he sighed deeply.

"Okay, if it will put your mind to rest. I'll do it. But for now, I have been wanting to try to kiss your lipstick off you for a couple hours now. And you know how much I like a challenge."

And she giggled as his lips found hers.

And he framed her soft face and took time kissing her lipstick off, and they spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, intertwined.

#####OQ#####

 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Normal

Sitting in the waiting room, he tapped his foot, as he waited for Felicity to get done with her breathing therapy, when his phone vibrated. Dig's face lit the screen, and he hesitated before answering, He hadn't spoken to John in days, and not since he’d ran from her. Not facing John would make the gap between them worse, but he knew without a doubt that John Diggle was still angry with him and was about to give him piece of his mind, so dreading it, he stood and walked out the door to the parking lot and hit accept.

"Oliver," John's voice seemed a little on the dark side.

"Dig, what's up?" He purposely made his voice light, trying to play off the trouble he knew he was in, something he was normally good at.

"I hear you finally asked Felicity to marry you. It’s about darn time."

"Thank you, John. You saying that means a lot to me." He hesitated, and then shut his eyes, before he ask, "John, how do you feel about being my best man?"

The silence on the phone stretch on forever, before John finally said, "I feel pretty good about it, Oliver."

He let out the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, and smiled, as he opened his eyes. "Good." The silence went on again until he asked, "John, are you still angry with me?"

This time the answer came quick and was exactly what he expected.

"Yes, Oliver, I am. Even more than I was. How could you do that to Felicity? How could you hurt her like that? Put her in danger like that?"

He sighed then said, "I knew you were still angry. And I don't know. I freaked out, okay?"

"Not okay, and you’ve been acting really stupid lately. Not like you at all. Oliver, where is your head at?"

He cringed and let the silence linger before he said, "I don't know. But, I have really been struggling, John, really struggling. First Felicity had her accident and then she got sick, really sick. And you know how well I handled that, and I am not good at this living together thing. Now I’ve stepped over the line and asked her to marry me. Have I lost my mind, Dig?"

"No, Oliver, you haven't lost you mind, and I think it’s past time you ask Felicity to marry you. What you need to do is stop over thinking and just go forward, just live your life together. You can do this. Together, you and Felicity will figure it out if you just keep trying."

"I don't know about that. I can't even figure out what to do about an engagement ring. I want to give her my grandmother's ring, but she's made a point to tell me she doesn't want an expensive ring. And I’ve already asked Thea to send my grandmother's ring to me. Now I'm not sure if I should even offer it to her. I beginning to think she wouldn’t like it. I want her to like her engagement ring, Dig. No, I don't want her to like it, I want her to love it."

"Oliver, how much is your grandmother's ring worth?"

"Only about ten to twelve thousand. I'm not sure."

Dig whistled, and then said, "Only ten to twelve grand. ONLY, Oliver! Yes, maybe you should rethink that ring. You do remember where she was raised?"

"I know where she grew up."

"And you think she's going to be comfortable wearing a ring worth that much?"

"It's not about what the ring is worth. Okay it's a 1 1/2 carat emerald with diamond inlay and now it's vintage too, which makes it worth more. But the ring is so us. I am the green, the emerald, and she is the light, the diamonds. It suits us."

Dig said, "Green and white, yes, that describes the two of you. You're right the ring sounds perfect, but you had better explain it to her like that, or I don't think she’ll want to wear it. Really, Oliver, maybe, you should take her to a jewelry store and pick out a reasonable ring together. Something that she would be comfortable wearing. And come to think of it, I don't really remember Felicity ever wearing a ring, period. Earrings, always, but no rings on her fingers. Wonder why? Maybe, rings slow her typing down?"

"Maybe, but I need to put a ring on her finger. And, I want her to wear my grandmother's ring. I think it would suit her."

"You're mother never wore it did she?"

"I'm smarter than that. And yes, she’s already told me that would be a mistake. I just think the ring would look good on her."

"I think you just want everyone to know she's yours, Oliver."

"She is mine." His possessiveness tightened his chest, before he went on. "John, I have never given a ring to any woman, so this is a first for me."

"Well then it’s about time you did. And we both know Felicity's special. But you need to figure out just how special she is."

"I know she's special, John." His words were earnest.

"Well you haven't been acting like you know that lately." John's voice had turned dark again.

The silence that followed, stretched out long and brittle, and his guilt crushed him, before he finally ended the torment by demanding, "Go on, Dig, just say it. I, deserve your fury, your anger. And I know you didn't just call to talk about rings. Just, go on. Finish it. Do your worst."

"It doesn't sound like you need me. As usual, you and your PTSD are doing a fine job of beating yourself up for me. Carry on."

He sighed deeply and pushed thoughts of PTSD away, before he said, "Alright, I know running from her was stupid, beyond foolish. I made, yet, another bad choice. I can't seem to stop making bad choices this year. And this time my bad choice put her in danger. I wasn't thinking, John. No, I was just reacting."

"How about over reacting?"

"I agree I do that sometimes. But, believe me, I’ll never do that to her again. I’ve come to terms with being with her."

Dig's voice was hard as he said, "Oliver, I don't care if you avoid talking about your PTSD with me, remember I know you and you’ve had PTSD since I met you, but if you ever put Felicity in a situation like that again, I’m coming for you, and trust me, I will find you." Dig's voice darkened, "And, Oliver, you’re not getting another warning. I mean it, this is the last one. You’d better get yourself together."

He cringed from the violence, the utter darkness, in Dig's voice, and he believed him. And what was worse, he deserved John's anger and disgust, though if Dig came for him, he would find out he couldn't best him. Yet, he still didn't want to put it to the test, for the last time they had fought, he’d almost killed his friend. And he never wanted to go there again, ever.

No, and when he’d run from her what he’d been was selfish. And his guilt still smothered him, lying heavy on what was left of his soul, as he said, "Dig, believe me, I will never put her in that position again. I will protect her with my last breath."

"You’d better, Oliver, for man, I don't know how or why, but she loves you, and we both know you love her too. And me, I just have to make sure you don't mess this up, don't hurt her anymore. She is my Felicity too, you know?"

He couldn't suppress his smile, knowing he needed her to love him, and he needed her with an intensely that rocked his world, an intensely he would never understand, but he knew that she was his light, that she had saved what small part was left of his soul. And he knew that her light had not just touched him, it’d touched the dark part of John too. And he knew both of them would do whatever it took to keep her light safe.

"I know she is, John. And I'm done running from her, John. And we both know that she always finds me anyway."

And a slight smile lit his face, for deep down he wanted, no, he desperately needed her to find him, ached for her to look for him, to bring him home to her, since that was where he belonged, and only she possessed the ability to bring him home. He understood that now.

"Oliver, she jumped out of a plane to find you. Why would you think you could hide from her in a bar?"

"Stupidity?"

John barked a laugh.

"I promise I will never do it again, John. It was a mistake. I was past lucky that she didn't get hurt. Trust me, I’ll never put her in that situation again."

"It's really hard to trust you right now, Oliver."

He cringed from John's truthful words.

"And YOUR darn right you made a mistake. Man, your running from her and getting drunk in a bar was a beyond a mistake. It was one of dumbest things I have ever known you do." His voice dropped deep as he said, "You’re really worrying me, Oliver. I’m not seeing you as a man in control. You’re back to when I first met you and you were almost out of control. Where is the man that had OCD about being in control?"

"I don't always know, John. Again, I’m struggling here."

"I know you are, but seriously, you need to get your head together. I mean did you really think she wouldn't come looking for you? She loves you, Oliver."

"I wasn't thinking."

"I heard you were too drunk to think. I heard you were too drunk to walk. Oliver, you need to get it together. And, you darn well better start thinking now."

"I am, John, I'm trying. I really am. But, this real life is hard. Give me a good robbery or drug dealer anyday."

"You two are going to be the death of me, Oliver. Both of you just keep screwing up. You’re making me crazy. And, speaking of crazy, Oliver, did you ever tell her about Merlyn and the league? Did you tell her that you gave Malcolm the league?"

He sighed deeply then said, "No, but I need to."

"You better do it soon, Oliver, or I will." Dig's voice was razor sharp.

"No, don't, I'll tell her."

"Soon, Oliver. You had better make it soon. I've got to go. Now I mean it, Oliver, get your act together." Then John severed the connection, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

And Oliver, bit his lip and dreaded what he needed to do before he returned to the waiting room just as Felicity came out from the back.

"Ready?" He asked.

"More than ready. I hate breathing treatments. But I have this now." She held up a small gray tube that looked like an L. "It's called a rescue inhaler. I'm supposed to dose before exercise, before we, you know." A faint blush crept on her face but she pushed on. "It's supposed to help me breathe better. Want to go home and try it?" Her smile bright, as she tilted her head just so and his dick thickened.

Oh, yes, he really did know.

"I’d love to," he said, as he pushed thoughts of Malcolm and the league away for just one more day, since when he told her that fight wasn't just going to be any argument, no, it was going to be war, and one he didn't want to face, and he had a feeling she wouldn't be taking him to bed after she learned the truth.

You're selfish, he told himself, but he buried the guilt and gave her a smile.

#####OQ#####

“How’d your meeting with Warren go?”

Oliver tossed the file folders on the table with the words, “I think we are out of our league here. They’re rough.” And he picked up a folder and sat down to read.

Felicity’d stayed home and worked remotely on the hospital's system today but now she closed her laptop.

“They can’t be that bad. They’re kids.”

“Read.” He said in a hard tone.

Pushing her glasses up on her nose, she grabbed a folder and picked up her tablet, willing to join in, willing to help him because she liked helping him.

She read out loud, "Markus Wright, 15 years old, 1 year probation, attempted robbery, truancy, and resisting arrest."

The next one wasn't much better.

"Alonzo Garcia, 1 year probation, DWI and driving without a license, disorderly conduct and resisting arrest." Felicity shook her head and said, "Are you sure these are juveniles, Oliver?"

"Well, Warren is a juvenile judge, so I would say, yes."

"David Lopes, 17 years old, 1 year probation, repeat offender, robbery, possession of a controlled substance, possession with the intent to deliver. Look, Oliver this one is on double probation. I never knew that could happen. That's a new one."

"Funny, Felicity, and it probably just means he has to pay probation twice."

"How would you know that?"

"Remember how bad I was when I was young? But trust me, money can buy your way out of trouble."

And he gave her a small grin, and she shook her finger at him and said, "It's a good thing I like bad boys."

"It works for me." He said lightly, and she thought that he was enjoying the teasing exchange with her. Some days, his mood was light, and it seemed today was one of those days. Maybe this soccer thing really was going to be good for him. She forced herself to pull her eyes from him and go back to reading.

"And the offense list just on and on. Shoplifting, drug dealing, assault and battery, disorderly conduct, breaking and entering, truancy, and vandalism." Felicity threw her glasses on the table with the words, "These are not nice kids, Oliver."

"I think not nice is probably an understatement," Oliver said dryly.

"Any ideas on how to handle them?"

"Not yet, but I'm thinking about it."

About that time, she heard the sound of a large truck stopping on the road outside. Oliver rose to see what was going on and opened the door.

"Felicity, did you order something? A very large something from the look of the truck."

She moved to stand beside him and saw a freight truck parked on the highway. Reaching, she touched his arm, then said softly, "Well, I called Thea and asked her if she would ship your Ducati motorcycle to you."

His head snapped around. "I thought it was in impound. Lost."

"It was. But I called Lance and kind of played on his sympathy, since he knows I’ve been sick, and he got the bike released for me. I thought we needed two rides now that you had somewhere to go, and I needed to go to the hospital and to therapy. And I thought you and I could ride it sometime." She knew she was blushing, but she pushed on and said, "I have always wanted to ride it with you but it never happened. So I asked Thea to send two helmets."

He smiled tenderly at her and pulled her close for a quick lingering kiss that blew her senses away. Releasing her, smiling brightly, he said, "You know me so well. I love my bike. Thank you, Felicity, for doing this for me. And yes, I’ve always wanted to feel you behind me on the bike. Do you want to go for a ride? I'll buy dinner."

"Let me call Thea first and tell her the bike is here."

She was really glad that she’d made him happy. Watching him help them unload his bike, she could tell he was beside himself, as he checked the bike out. He had that look that made her heart swell and flutter, and she was so glad she’d called Lance and Thea.

Pulling her phone out, she scrolled down and called Thea.

"It's here, Thea."

"Is Ollie happy?"

"He’s beside himself. Has that goofy grin on his face, you know that grin that said that he’s happy and not stressing for once."

"Felicity, I don't think my brother has a not stressing goofy grin. Are you sure we are talking about, Ollie?"

"Well he has one today. Hey, here he comes. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Yes, put goofy grin on."

"Thea," she said as she handed him the phone, then walked back in the house to give him a minute with his sister.

#####OQ#####

"I hear you’ve got goofy grin."

"I do not."

"That's not what Felicity just said."

"Okay, maybe I do. I’m just shocked. I never thought I would see her again."

"You call your motorcycle HER? You’re such a guy. If it's between your legs then it must be."

"THEA."

"A woman. Remember, Ollie, I have grown up."

"I’m trying to forget."

"No such luck, now, Ollie, is Felicity still where she can hear?"

"No, she’s gone into the house."

"Good. Look under the motorcycle seat. Grandma's ring is there."

"Thea, are you crazy? That ring is worth over ten grand. What if someone would have stolen my motorcycle?"

"Then the insurance would have paid for the motorcycle, and you would still need a ring. Is it there? Look!" She demanded of him.

He walked over and flipped the seat up. "I see gray tape. Thea, you used gray tape?"

"Well it's supposed to be good for everything. Is the ring there?"

He pulled the tape off the seat, and there was his grandmother's beautiful ring, and it sparkled in the sunlight, calling to him, as he peeled it off the gray tape.

"Yes, it's there. Seriously, Thea you taped it to the seat? Now I don't have a ring box."

"The box was too big and your motorcycle has NO storage Oliver. I don't see why you even like that model."

"If you rode it you would see. It really handles."

"Which means it goes really fast." Thea said dryly.

"Well you know how much I like my toys."

Thea laughed and then said, "You better send selfies after you put that ring on her finger. And you better come home to get married. I’ll never forgive you, if you don't let me help plan your wedding, Ollie."

"I would never get married without you there, Thea."

"You’d better not. Now go give her that ring. She really does love you, Oliver. She told me while you were gone. I'm happy you let her in, Ollie, because you really needed to let someone in."

"You're right I did. I love you, Thea."

A few more exchanges and he hung up with Thea and slipped the expensive ring in his pants' pocket, the same pocket that still contained her hair tie, and he reached and brushed his hand over it, for it calmed him when he touched it and his nerves were getting the better of him right now.

Mounting the porch, he forced himself to open the door before he said, "Felicity, go change, put pants and boots on and get a jacket. And you should braid your hair for you are going to have a lot of tangles if you don't."

She gave him a wicked sexy look before she ask, "Will you braid it for me?"

"I’d love to," he said with what was probably another goofy grin.

"I'll change and go get the brush."

It was so normal, as he fixed her hair, nice and average, and the action of his hands on her silky hair calmed his nerves.

She sat on the porch steps between his legs as he braided her hair, helped her, and touched her. The simple act again soothed him, untightened the knots in his stomach, just as the brush as he quickly brushed out her smooth hair and braided it. Her hand lingered on his, as she handed him a hair tie, then she turned and kissed him soundly, sucking his bottom lip before pulling away.

"You are living dangerously," he said huskily, "I thought you want to take a ride."

"Oh, I want a ride," she said with a slight smile and a hand that ran down his body and lingered for an instant.

Just that small touch and she was really turning him on. How did she do that to him? He didn't know, but he hoped it never went away.

"Then behave," he said a little breathless, as his blood quickened. "Or we won't be going anywhere."

She tipped her head to the side and said, "I'll just take a rain check. So come on, I'll let you take me to dinner. I want to ride the bike with you."

So, he mounted the bike, and she just stood there for a second, and he saw her bite her bottom lip. Nerves, he thought, but he said, "Come on, Felicity, climb on behind me. You can do it." And he reached out his hand and took hers.

Frowning now, she said, "I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, Oliver. And I thought that I wanted to do this, but I’m freaking out a little here. What if we wreck? I haven't looked up the statistics of how many people die on motorcycles every year. Maybe, I could just take the car?"

"Felicity, don't think like that. All you have to do is just hold on to me tight, and it will be fun. Lean when I do, and we’ll be fine. I promise you will like the bike. Remember I’ll always keep you safe. Just trust me." And he gave her a tug and pulled her toward him.

She took a deep breath then threw her leg over the seat and climbed on behind him. Holding him tight, he felt a tremor pass through her body, as she placed her feet on the foot pegs. Turning, he handed her the helmet, and she struggled to put it on but figured it out.

He had always thought she would feel good behind him on the bike. But she felt better than he’d ever imaged. She made him feel good, whenever and wherever she touched him. He hit the starter, and she inhaled sharply.

Reaching his hand back, he gave her leg a squeeze and said, "Just try to relax. I'm good at this. Just remember that I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you, Felicity."

"I know but this is scary." She whispered beside his ear.

"You got this. If you get scared just put your face into my back and close your eyes. Remember, no matter what, I’ll keep you safe. You just have to trust me."

He gave the bike gas slowly, and they were off.

The bike felt like home under him. It was like piece of him that he hadn't know was missing, had been replaced, and Felicity was wrapped tightly against his back, her thighs pressed against him, her small body tucked into his. Talk about the world being awesome right now, he couldn't seem to stop the smile, as they roared down the highway and into town. He didn't know the last time he had been this happy. But it had been a long time, of that he was sure.

He stopped at the first stop sign in town and asked her, "You okay?" as he put his foot down to brace them.

"Maybe, I don't know yet. I’m stilling processing it."

He smiled broadly, as he gave the bike gas and drove them down the street slowly, until they reached the family restaurant that he’d picked out for dinner.

Pulling into the parking lot, he parked the bike and shut it off and took off his helmet. She was still tucked into his back, hugging him tightly, as he said, "Are you hungry?"

She pulled her face out of his back and managed to pull off the helmet before she said, "Yeah, I could eat," as she slowly released her death grip. "But bikes are little scary."

"You'll get used to it. Just keep trusting me."

"I'm trying. But you sure have my heart pumping."

He stepped off the bike, then he couldn't help it, he gave her a small lingering kiss before he offered her his hand, and then helped her off the bike.

Then they went in the restaurant and ordered pot roast, the special of the day.

As they waited for the food, he played with her hand, rubbing her ring finger, as he thought about the ring in his pocket and how he was going to give it to her. He wanted it to be perfect, but he didn't have a clue how to give it to her. A romantic, he wasn't.

"What are you brooding about now?" Her voice broke into his thoughts.

He couldn't say what he was thinking about, so instead he lied, "My team. What do you think I should do with my soccer team?"

Her eyes narrowed and he wondered if he was that transparent?

Guess he was, for she frowned and pulled her hand away. Instantly, he had the distinct feeling she knew he’d lied. And he was really glad when instead of calling him on it, she played along by saying, "I don't know. I’ve never had a soccer team before. I’m at a loss here, Oliver. Normal is hard if you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed. Why don't we just throw some ideas out there and see what we come up with?"

"Well, from what I have read, if you play soccer then you run a lot, that and chase the ball."

"Guess I should make them run a lot."

"Yes."

"Well, that's easy enough. I’ve been running lately so, I know I could outrun them."

"Well, maybe you should out run them. I think you need to show them that you’re more physically fit then they are. You have to find a way to show them that you’re stronger than them. Show them you’re tough."

And so the rest of dinner went and it was nice to just chat together. And the ride home in the dark was awesome. She clung to him and was starting to figure out how to lean when he leaned. The bike ride, with her pressed against him gave him a real high and fired his blood.

Carefully, he pulled in to the rental, and he shut the bike off and pulled his helmet off.

"You, okay?"

"Yea, I think I am."

She slowly released him. Then before he knew it, she got off the bike, pulled the helmet off and gave him a kiss, along with hard hug, and he loved it. She was turning him on. Past turning him on.

Pulling the key, he climbed off the bike and started up the steps but then he stopped. The ring was burning him through his pants’ pocket, and he knew he had to give it to her, and he had to do it now before they went into the house.

"Felicity, wait." His heart pounded, and he almost couldn't breathe, as she turned and looked down at him from the porch.

"What, Oliver?"

"I . . ." Where was his nerve? He could do this. Self-doubt that she wouldn't like the ring attacked him. He swallowed hard and stepped onto the porch and took her left hand. Giving his head a little shake, he smiled up at her and she smiled back.

Looking straight in her eyes, he pulled the ring from his pocket and said, "Felicity Meghan Smoak, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes went wide. She looked from his hand, to the ring, to his face and then said in a strained voice, "I need some air," before she pulled her hand from his and rushed past him to walk away, leaving him holding the ring and what looked like the bag.

#####OQ#####

Reviews? Thoughts? Should she take the expensive ring? Should she not? Should Oliver chase her? Until next time thanks for the read!

 


	19. Chapter 19

He stood there, and he watched her walk away, while his heart bled, no ached intensely. The last time she had walked away from him, he remembered she had pretty much walked straight into Ray's arms. Talk about pain. In a few weeks time, he'd returned from Nanda Parbat to find them together, and he almost couldn't stand it.

NO. She belonged to him.

His bitter anger choked him, hurt him, as she walked away from him, from his proposal. It didn't matter she'd already said yes, or that she'd already agreed to marry him, since she'd refused his ring. And he had to make himself stay put, to not chase after her and demand she talk to him, force himself not grab her arm and spin her around to face him, for he was too angry, too far gone. He wanted to make her take his ring, to make her wear his ring.

Needed it like his body needed water.

But, instead, he let her walk away. Let her go, for the last time he had followed her when she told him she needed some air, she'd swiftly ripped him apart by telling him she didn't want to be a woman he loved. She'd effectively cut his heart from his chest with her cruel words.

Ra's sword had been easier, for at least afterwards he'd had the blessing of being unconscious, where unlike then, he'd gotten to lie awake for hours in agonizing pain after she had threw those hateful words at him.

No, he'd followed her and her anger had lashed out at him, cutting him deeply, wounding him, and he would be damned before he would go actively looking for that kind of pain again.

Yes, Felicity's words could be as sharp as his arrows when he made her angry. And from the look on her face, YES, he'd upset her.

Okay, he deserved her fury. She'd pointedly warned him not to give her an expensive ring, and he had done exactly what she had told him not to do. Dig had tried to warn him, too. And yet, again, he hadn't heeded Dig's advice or done as she'd sharply asked him. No, he thought he knew best.

"Well, how's that working out for you?" He chided himself out loud, while his shoulders slumped.

"Way to go, Oliver. You offer her a ring, and she runs from you."

Carefully, pocketing the now dreaded ring, with a massive frown, he pulled her hair tie out of his pocket and sat down on the step and began to roll it between his fingers. He started concentrating on breathing in and out, as he used rolling the hair tie to soothe himself. His anger simmering barely below the surface. He'd misjudged her reaction to the ring, and he wanted, no, ached to hit something, to resort to what he knew helped control, helped contain his anger. He felt compelled to lash out, ached to feed the darkness that vied for control right now.

The flash backs started. He could see her with Ray. The blue dress. The kiss. 

Breathe, he told himself. Ray's gone. She's yours. 

Yet, he could see the way she stood in Ray's space. He rolled her hair tie and tried to soothe the fiery, burning ache by breathing.

But his anger desperately wanted out of the place he'd pushed it, wanted out of the corner he'd shoved it in. Like a living breathing thing, his anger grew inside him, and he clutched the porch step with his hands to stop himself, to hold on, since he needed to hit something and right now.

Why had he given her his word he wouldn't beat up his hands? Punching something would feel really good right now. He groaned knowing only his promise to her stopped him from erupting and punching the porch over and over, until the blood ran red from his knuckles. 

Yet, he wanted to break his word and ached to bloody his hands, to punish himself, since he hadn't listened to her.

He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing, to focus on his breathing. A short time later, he made his hands release the step, then with a hand that had a slight tremor, he rolled her hair tie and breathed. 

Give her a little time to process, as she liked to call it. Yes, she need time to process, like her computers, though he thought some times that her brain worked like a computer, except when she babbled. 

Then her brain worked to amuse him, and a small smile lit his face.

Okay, he could be patient. He could push the anger down and control it, and he would wait her out. She been angry before, upset with him, something he understood, and he'd surprised her with the ring. He'd moved too fast and panicked her. She'd come back, and then, he could explain, talk her into the ring in his pocket.

And, tomorrow, he would buy himself a punching bag, or he would find somewhere to train. No, he would do both. It was past time.

No more of this passive living.

Yeah, he desperately needed to go back to training. Running, wasn't cutting it anymore. He needed, NO, he ached deep down to hit something hard, to push his muscles to the point of exhaustion and to feel the burn. He missed his salmon ladder, missed a way to rid himself of the excess energy that consumed him sometimes. Times like right now when he needed the release from his emotions. If he upped his protein intake, ate more often, maybe he could stave off the weight loss from the training and more of his muscle would return.

Tomorrow, he'd return to training, finally feed the need that demanded to feed. The darkness was still there inside, hungry, and wanted to devour him. Yes, tomorrow he would find a way to train. But tonight, he would push the darkness down, tonight he could still collar the need. One more night, he told himself, you can wait one more night.

He could be patient. Rolling her hair tie slowly in the dark, he told himself that she'd be back, and then he would do a better job at giving her the ring and talk her into his ring. Yes, he would.

######OQ#####

Okay, she was freaking out, way past freaking out.

How dare he? She kicked the sand up into the air, scattering it to the wind in her fury.

"The very nerve of the man. His ego's so large, it's a wonder, we can be in the same room together. "She growled out loud and said bitterly to the gulf of Mexico, "When I told him specificity, I didn't want an expensive ring, I REALLY FRACKING MEANT IT."

Had he thought she was joking? She kicked the sand again.

"How dare he offer me an over a carat solitaire emerald ring? The diamonds alone are worth more than my car. The very nerve of the man."

She picked up a shell from the beach and flung it hard at the water.

But it did nothing to relieve her anger.

Didn't he ever listen to her? Hear what she said?

No way would she be responsible for a ring worth that much. No, she'd lose it, or with her luck, she'd look down and that amazing emerald would be gone. 

No way she'd wear it.

NO FRACKING WAY!

She didn't even like rings, and he brings her a huge rock like that. Thea must of sent it somehow with the motorcycle. The ring probably belonged to his mother. Well didn't that just take the cake?

Pacing back and forth on the beach, almost beside herself, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Oliver Queen you are an idiot," she said out loud, as she found herself fighting tears. She fisted her hands and thought, I am not going to cry about this. But, oh, she was mad at him for not understanding, for not listening to her yet, AGAIN.

She ran her hands across her face in frustration.

Didn't he understand she came from darn near poverty? Her mother worked as a cocktail waitress, for goodness sake, who'd worked very hard to raise her on mainly tips after her father'd abandoned them. And the fool didn't understand that her mother'd used wealthy men.

Sugar daddies, her mom had called the men, joked about them.

And, yes, that embarrassed her.

After her, father had left, her mom had used men for their money. She ate their food, wore their trinkets, and some of them had given her very expensive pieces. Items, she'd watched her mom later pawn, and walk away from after the affair was over, until the next man gave her a pretty piece of jewelry. And there was always a next man.

She had swore she would never be like her mother, letting someone buy her love, but no, she had to fall in love with him, a wealthy man. A man who thinks he has to save the world. A man who doesn't seem to hear a word she said.

Unlike her mom, she wanted better than to be some rich man's arm candy and that ring reminded of her mom hanging on some rich man's arm, hoping he would buy her a ring like that she could pawn it later. No, she had promised herself she would do better than her mom, which meant she had gone to college because she had wanted better.

But, attending MIT on a scholarship, she'd truly struggled. Smart and determined, she'd eaten a lot Ramon noodles. And she'd worked part time while she went to school to even do that, since her scholarship hadn't come with a meal plan or text books. Oliver didn't understand she had really struggled to buy **used**  books in college, and that ring would have paid for all her books and all her meals the entire time she went to school, and she had a masters, which meant a lot of text books and years of Ramon noodles.

Lost in her memories, she thought of her life at MIT. 

She'd been too young, and too smart, and had been the poor girl surround by all those spoiled rich kids. Oliver Queen wouldn't have given her a second glance at MIT. He wouldn't have bothered to get to know her.  He'd would have been like the rest of the rich kids she'd been surrounded by. Kids who didn't how to live pay check to pay check. Rich kids, who's mother hadn't have to whatever it took to raise them, even if it meant sleeping with men to keep the lights on or pay the rent.

Those had been the worst years of her life. And in reality, spoiled rich Oliver would have been like the other rich kids, who'd nothing in common with her, who'd teased her, pulled pranks on her, embarrassed her, and who'd made sure she knew she didn't fit in and didn't belong in their world.

Oliver didn't understand how she had been raised because she was sadly ashamed of her mother. Her mother, even though she loved her, embarrassed her, which meant she didn't talk about her or about her childhood to anymore, especially to Oliver.

And though those years at MIT had been lean, she'd been focused. Perhaps not always on the right things, since she had been a hacktivist by her senior year, but still she fully intended not to spend her life being poor, not to be her mother and depend on wealthy men and her looks to pay the bills. Yes, she had money in the bank now, thanks first to Oliver because even it she had hated being his executive assistant, it had paid well, and she knew how to live cheaply.

And that was another thing. With a rock like the one in that ring, the tabloids would have a field day. The gossip had already decided she'd slept her way to the top, marked her a gold digger. She knew employees at Queen Consolidated and then Palmer Industries were positive she had gotten those top positions, using her body not brains.

Even if the gossip didn't know a thing about the truth.

People had thought it and said it, and when the news hit that Oliver and she were going to marry, or that they were married, people were going to say it repeatedly. The tabloids would  brand her the little gold digger that married the rich man.

And YES, it bothered her. She kicked the sand again.

Unlike her mother, she could handle her money wisely, and she'd made some wise investments. And thanks to Ray and the job she'd quit to be with Oliver, to be with a man doing his level best to make her insane, she had a pretty good nest egg.  Finally, she had enough money, she didn't worry about making her house payment for a long time. 

Signing, she thought why did she have to be addicted to Oliver Queen. Ray and her could have been an item, but she couldn't give Oliver up. No, heaven help her,  Oliver's scent overpowered her senses and short circuited her brain. No matter how much she wanted it, Ray never fired her blood the way Oliver did, sex had been nice but not the burning inferno of having sex with Oliver. 

And, it seemed that no matter what the man did to hurt her, she wanted him. Some days she really wished she could find the stop loving Oliver button, since pushing it would make her life a lot easier.

No matter what, Oliver wealth created a major problem for her. And what money she possessed was nothing, seriously NOTHING, compared to what he had, to his rich childhood. The idiot, no doubt, considered himself broke as a millionaire.

She bit her lip, knowing the two of them had came from two totally different worlds. And that fracking ring proved it to her without a shadow of a doubt. 

What had she been thinking when she agreed to marry him? 

How could she even think she belonged in his world in her league? 

She turned and looked at the small house they were sharing and found it hard to breath.

"Here I can do, but can I really live in his world?"

Breathing became hard, and her stomach plummeted and she bit her lip.

What happened when they went back to Starling? Could she take the camera's flashing, the cell phones snapping pictures everywhere they went? The lack of privacy? Where would they live? She couldn't see him moving into her small house, and she wouldn't be comfortable living in Thea's loft.

Maybe this could never work? 

Okay, right now, they were playing house, but what happened when they returned to real life? What happened when he went back to hunting bad guys? And she knew he struggled not to be violent. A part of him must be aching to be violent, to show his true nature. He'd returned from the island with something inside him that needed the violence. That part of him she understood, but the rich part?

No, and that huge stone he wanted to put on her hand was solid sparkling evidence, that their two worlds didn't overlap. 

NO, that ring didn't compare to Ray's on loan diamond necklace that was returned to the jeweler.  NO, if she took that ring she had agreed to his rich world forever.

"Not fracking happening."

She'd told him no expensive rings, and she wouldn't start their life together by allowing him to run over the top of her, to do what he ever he wanted, wouldn't wear a ring that would always be  uncomfortable on her hand. He had to listen to her, or they would be divorced before they were ever married.

Too fracking much! The nerve of the man.

Still  mad at him, she turned on her heel and walked back to the house. She noted he sat on the top step, plainly waiting for her in the dark, but aware of her as his head snapped up and even in the dark, she could see the way his eyes swept her form, gauging her body language, and he breathed in a deep breath before he said quietly, "Another bad choice, huh?"

"You darn right it was." And she marched straight past him and tried the door, only to find it still locked. She realized he had not left the porch but had waited for her to return before she said, "Give me the key."

Silently, he stood and unlocked the door, swinging it open for her.

Sweeping past him, she walked into the house, and she tried to slam the door behind her, but he followed on her heels and caught it. "Felicity, I want to talk about this."

Spinning on her heel, she pointed a finger at him. "No, you don't! What you want your is own way, as usual. You are not going to bully me, Oliver. That ring's a terrible choice. I told you, Oliver." Her voice rose,"I told you, warned you. Why would you just ignore what I told you? Oh, I know, because you're Oliver Jonas Queen."

He took a step forward, right into her space, but she didn't back down. No, if anything, she lifted her chin and stared him down.

And this time his words were sharp. "Because my grandmother's ring is us. And how could you do that to me, Felicity? You know how hard this is for me. I asked you to marry me and you walk away from me. Are you trying to hurt me? Do you want me in pain?"

And she almost smiled because since he was learning how to argue with her, how to state his feelings. A vast improvement from the emotional empty wasteland he'd been when he returned from Ra's. "Maybe, I do since, you're doing such a great job of hurting me, Oliver. I asked you not to do something and what do you do? Exactly what you want. You ignore me and offer me a ring that costs almost more than my car did new."

"This is not about the money."

"It is for me. You come from money and I don't. And that ring proves it and right now the only point in that's ring's favor is it didn't belong to your mother."

He sighed and then said, "Felicity, even I'm not that stupid on my worse day. I would never ever think about giving you a ring that belonged to my mother. I haven't forgotten you and my mother were hardly on good terms."

She invaded his personal space as she hissed the words, "Hardly on good terms. Now there's an understatement. Get real. She hated me, and she made it very clear I wasn't good enough for you. Remember she told me that you would hate me if I didn't keep her secret."

"My mother was hard to love some times."

"Don't you dare make excuses for her. I understand she was your mother but she looked down her nose at me, made me feel insignificant. And she was very angry I told you about Thea belonging to Merilyn. I don't think she'd be pleased we're together now."

They were toe to toe now, when he said with heat, "I wouldn't have cared if she would have been pleased or not. You're my choice. You're who I want. And I would have chosen you even if she was still alive." He pulled the ring from his pocket and said, "And this is my grandmother's ring. My father's mother's ring. The one my grandfather gave her for their thirty sixth wedding anniversary. The last ring he ever gave her, since he died right after that."

She couldn't stop herself, even angry at him, he looked sad enough she wanted to console him. Reaching, she put her hand on his chest before she ask quietly,"And what did he die of, Oliver?"

He frowned deeply, and she caught his eyes, and he truly hesitated before he said softly, "A massive heart attack. He died suddenly. Here one day and gone the next. I barely remember him." He sighed deeply before he frowned, the look on his face priceless as he said, "Well, that really helps my case, doesn't it?"

Frowning now, she shook her head. "No, not at all, since heart disease is hereditary. But I will give you a point for not lying about it. Unlike back at the restaurant when you lied about what you were thinking about."

"You're right. I was thinking about giving you the ring. How to do it right. I wanted it to be perfect." His voice fell and became husky before he said, "And I totally messed up from your reaction."

His sadness radiated from him, and she moved closer to him. Oh, why did he draw her to him? It wouldn't be long and she'd be laying her head on his chest. He drew her in like a moth to the flame. And she found it totally exhausting being angry with him, especially when he tried to be sweet, when he was using his charm, and being very careful to tell her the truth.

She loved it when he was truthful with her and yes, he knew how to charm her.

And the fool she was, she was falling for it.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said softly, and she let him pull her toward the couch, and didn't resist him, even, as he pulled her down to settle on his lap, even though she knew this was playboy Oliver, charming Oliver.

Her anger still simmered below the surface, but she didn't fight him. No, instead, she let him gather her to him, let him pull her into that special connection they had together, before he said, "My grandmother died years later. I was eleven, and she always wore this ring."

He showed it to her, held it up and spun it in the light. And yes, it sparkled, even in low light.

"I liked the way it sparkled, when I sat on her lap, and as the years passed, my grandmother would talk about my how my grandfather had said the emerald was for her green eyes and the diamonds where her smile that lit up his life. I missed my grandmother when she died, Felicity. She always acted like she loved me, and she spoiled me."

"I have a feeling everyone spoiled you. But did your mother like her?"

"No, my mother never liked her either. Maybe, you remind me of her."

"Another point in your favor. And you're playing the sentimental card here."

"Are you keeping score? And is it working?" He palmed the ring and nuzzled her neck and instantly desire shot to her core.

She pushed away from him."Stop it, Oliver. And no, I'm still really mad at you. I warned you to not get me an expensive ring, and you went right on and did what you wanted. What is it with you thinking that your opinion is the only one that matters? Though I love your mouth, you're not distracting me. I know your moves, your playboy moves, and they're not going to work."

But his fingers moved to her neck and shoulders and started to rub softly. "Alright but look at it this way. I'm the emerald, the green, just like my hood, and you are my light, the diamonds. The light to my dark, Felicity." He exhaled and then said, "You need to understand that your light has saved what pitiful bit is left of my soul."

"I have not, Oliver. And I think you are trying to get your way here. You chose that ring and you want me to take it and you're using your charming self to try and get your own way. Let's go back to I know you. And I don't understand how you don't know me well enough to know this is not the ring for me?"

"Believe what you want, I know the truth and but I know I need you, Felicity. And I need to show the world that you belong to me. Please wear my ring, Felicity." He placed a kiss at the base of her throat, and she wanted to purr for him.

But the panic hit her again, because she found herself wavering. He was using his mouth and his words to get his way, and she would regret letting him talk her into the ring. Pushing him away with the words, said added, "I can't, Oliver. Your ring is too much, too expensive for every day. Don't you understand? I was raised poor, Oliver."

This time, she looked away from him, as she forced herself to say, "I'm embarrassed to take you to my mother's apartment, not condo, Oliver, apartment. A walk up most likely. My mother has never been good with money, and I was raised with an eviction notice hanging on the door, most months. You wouldn't believe how many times we moved when I was a child. How many times we moved in the middle of the night because she didn't pay the rent. How many times we slept on other peoples' couches and in spare rooms until she could scrape up the rent and deposit again. Why do you think I BOUGHT a house, Oliver. I am not even thirty, and I bought a house."

"I guess I never thought about it." His voice became quiet, wary.

"It was because I finally wanted a home of my own. I didn't want to move anymore. Oliver, I didn't come from money like you did. I went to MIT on a scholarship, and you wouldn't have even looked at me at MIT."

"Oh, yes, I would have."

"No, you wouldn't have. I was the poor girl. You would have avoided me like the rest of the rich kids. And, that ring, Oliver. If I would have had the cost of that ring when I went to school. Never mind. I don't even like rings and you want me to wear a ring that I figure is worth more than ten grand. It's not happening, ever."

And he tilted his head and gave her those puppy dog eyes of his.

"Stop looking at me that way because I mean it. With my luck, I would I lose it. I would look down and that emerald would be long gone, poof, or someone would steal it. Or, I would leave it on a sink somewhere after I washed my hands. I would be in a constant panic over that ring. You don't know how many earrings I have lost? Do you?"

"Then I'll insure it and they will replace it if you lose it."

He tried to drop the ring in her hand and she closed her palm and shook her head.

"Oliver, be reasonable, insurance can't replace your GRANDMOTHER'S ring. It's a family heirloom. No, I can't do this. I don't want the responsibly. Put it back in the vault, I know it must of came out of. Return it to all those other pieces of jewelry that your family probably owns. **I don't want it.**  It makes me too nervous. I'm not saying I don't want you, Oliver. I would wear your ring but that ring is too much."

"I don't own any jewelry except this piece. Thea rescued it for me because she knew the ring was special to me."

"Now you're using guilt to get your way? Truly, Oliver, I'm going to subtract a point."

"Again, is it working?" That charming grin again.

"No. Process it, Oliver, your ring is freaking me out. I am not going to babysit it for the rest of my life, not going to know I have the cost of 1/4 of a semester of college at MLT sitting on my finger at all times. I can't handle it. I don't think I could breathe with that ring on my finger."

"You would get used to it, trust me."

"No, what it would do is remind me every day of how different our worlds are. Oliver, have you seen my house? I've seen where you grew up. We don't compare, and I'm beginning to think maybe we should rethink this whole getting married thing. Stop this relationship right now. You're not hearing a single word I'm saying anyway. And if you can't hear me, then we don't have a chance of making this work."

"NO! You're mine," and she could hear the panic in his voice as he continued, "Don't ever talk like that, ever. My home? It wasn't a home, Felicity, it was a very large, well decorated, mausoleum, and I'm not really sorry it's gone. I have been more at home with you here in this tiny house then I ever was there. I would be happy to stay right here for the rest of my life. But please, you are mine, and I need you to wear my ring. I have never given a ring to anyone. Never asked someone to commit to me. Please wear my ring, Felicity."

"Why won't you understand that I was raised by a cocktail waitress. I am struggling here, Oliver. I've never owned a piece of jewelry worth a grand let along ten grand. So, maybe I don't know how to live in that price range? And if you are going to keep pushing this ring, then, really you should consider someone else to marry you. Someone that was raised like you where with wealth."

"Are you trying to hurt me?" He looked stricken. "Now you are pulling away, running from us. I'm sorry I scared you with the ring. I never meant to make you unhappy, to make you feel bad. I know I'm damaged."

"Stop. No, it not that you're damaged. It's not that you have PTSD. It's that you're RICH, Oliver. Your lifestyle scares me, and I don't mean the Arrow side of it. I mean the RICH side of it. Your ease with wealth because you have lived most of your life with it. And I'm beginning to think maybe we should rethink this, Oliver. I mean, we are hardly in the same tax bracket, and you wanting me to wear that ring proves it without a shadow of a doubt."

"NO, don't you ever say that again, don't even think it. I've had years to rethink this, to rethink, us. I have spent years stepping toward you and then panicking and taking two steps back and running from you. I can't run anymore. Life is too short. I want to marry you, to be with you. How about you stop overthinking, Felicity. Dig says I overthink and he's right, I do. And right now you're the one overthinking."

His voice lowered and he touched her face and caught her eyes as he said, "Look, I know we were raised differently. I don't care how you were raised. I love the person you have become, whatever it took to get you to now. I have been both you know? Very rich and very poor. I have been homeless and alone. And neither of them made me happy. You make me happy."

His thumb feathered her cheek, as he said, "And I know that I don't want to be alone any more and you complete me. You ground me. And I love you. And I do understand. I hear you. Okay, I get it. So, come on, Felicity," he removed his hand from her face and set her on her feet.

"Huh? Where are we going? I mean it's getting late."

"Trust me?" He said solemnly.

"It's hard to some days, but, yes," she said, and she did. It was stupid on her part, but she did trust him.

"Come on, you'll see," he said, as he pulled her out the door, locking it behind her. Dragging her to the bike, he handed her her helmet, and he wore his goofy grin again, so she put the helmet on and when he climbed on, she climbed on behind him and wrapped herself around him and it felt truly good, and right.

He hit the starter and headed back toward town, and she breathed in the crisp night air and wrapped herself tighter around him, as they roared down the highway. And yes, riding the bike was exhilarating, past exhilarating. She could see how he could like this. She could see that she could learn to like this. It seemed she liked adrenaline too.

The lights of the super store loomed in the distance, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Ice cream, maybe? She could do ice cream.

Pulling into the parking lot, he dismounted, and she pulled the helmet off and tipped her head at him with a question in her eyes. But he just smiled and offered her his hand. She took it and together they walked into the store, and he pulled her behind him until they reached the jewelry  counter.

The one with the rings.

And he said, with a charming, smug smile, "I am thinking one of these would be more us. Maybe, we could pick one together. Decide together. So, you show me the one that YOU like. And we will find a ring that fits both of us."

And her face lit, for she knew, that he finally understood that, although his grandmother's ring was precious and beautiful, she'd never be comfortable wearing it every day. Oh, she could maybe wear it for an evening, or for an anniversary, a special date, but, NO, not for every day, not for forever.

NO, it wasn't the ring for them. It didn't represent their love. It was much too much, and he finally understood that she didn't need or want an expensive emerald.

"Thank you," she said softly.

And he waved the clerk back with his hand as he said, "Give us a minute." Then he ask, "For what?" as he stepped into her personal space.

"For understanding that maybe I need zirconia, not diamonds. Maybe, I need paste, or maybe a cheap vintage but a ring that if I lost it, forgot it, left it, someone stole it, it would still be okay. Yes, I would be sad."

And he finished her sentence for her as he said, "But you wouldn't be devastated and guilty that you had lost MY grandmother's ring."

She truly smiled up at him before she said, "Yes, and I'm going to lose this ring probably. I'm not joking about all the earrings I lose. Why do you think I have new ones all the time?"

His blue eyes blazed down at her and he grinned.

"I'm not perfect, Oliver. I'm not good at everything, and I'm not even going to ask you to wear a ring, well maybe when we go out in public, since women tend to eye you where ever we go. I've seen them slip you their number. Not that I'm jealous."

"Felicity, focus. Is this ring what you want? I just need to . . . I . . ." 

"You don't have to say it. I get that you want to mark my hand, to claim me, so to speak, and I want to claim you too, and even though our love scares us and it doesn't only reside in a ring, no, it lives here in our hearts."

She reached and placed her hand over his heart and he covered her small hand with his large one, with the words, "You should write that down. I would use it for my wedding vows," and then he motioned for the clerk.

#####OQ#####

Her love for him expanded and filled her, as he patiently waited for her to finally pick a solid 14K yellow gold ring that held a green created-emerald, with white sapphires. A a total gem weight of 1.60. He smiled his very goofy grin, one exactly like the one he'd smiled at her long ago, when they had stood on the beach after locking Slade away, and she had described them together as "unthinkable." And he nodded when he slipped the ring her finger with the words, "It's perfect." Then he kissed her soundly after he paid a mere $539.99 dollars plus tax for her ring.

The cashier smiled, as she asked, "Do you want to wear the ring or do you want me to put it in a box?"

"Box," he said before she could say a word and he smiled at her, tipped his head, and reached for her hand to remove the ring and hand it back to the cashier.

Walking back to the bike, under the moonlight and the lights of the parking lot, he pulled the ring box from his pocket. Then he lifted her and sat her on the bike seat, as he stepped between her legs, straight into her personal space.

She got that there would be no running from him this time, and she reached and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer.

Cracking the ring box, he swallowed and looked straight into her eyes, with his piercing blue eyes, he held up two fingers and said, "Take two."

Then, he schooled his face, and smiled his most charming grin at her. "Felicity Meghan Smoak, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

She laughed a small laugh, then she schooled her face and said solemnly, "Yes, I will, Oliver Jonas Queen."

Slowly, he slipped the ring they had chosen together on her finger, with the words, "Good. And now since we had a fight, we have to kiss and make up." There was that sly grin he gave her.

Oh, how he was learning.

And then, he leaned down and kissed her, kissed her senseless in the dark on a bike in a parking lot, and she was enthralled with him and her new ring.

And he made her hot for him.

So, when he broke the kiss, she said breathlessly, "Let's go home, Oliver. I have plans for you."

And they got back on the bike and headed home.

#####OQ#####

He really thought he could make it home. He told himself he could wait.

He honestly did, but NO his greed couldn't wait. He had to have her.

And NOW.

His greed overpowered him.

AND, no, he couldn't stop himself. No, he couldn't control himself. Not any more. Earlier, he had noted a small pull off, and he pulled the bike in. And before she knew what had happened, he had shut the bike off, dropped the kick stand, and pulled off his helmet off and threw it on the ground. Giving her no time to protest, he reached and lifted her and positioned her in front of him on the bike. He needed her to know how much he need her.

His hands made quick work of her helmet, dropping it forgotten to the ground. Nothing mattered anymore but her, as his mouth crashed repeatedly onto hers.

Over and over, his lips devoured hers.

Tasting, nipping, wanting her, feeding his need, and she gave back as good as he gave.

He flew, soared inside and didn't even try to stop himself. 

Couldn't stop anymore.

The adrenaline high he rode demanded a release, now. 

NO, NOT LATER. NOW! 

He need her and right the F. . .ING NOW.

It would be tricky but, he would have her on the bike and that was all there was to it. There would be no more waiting.

Her mouth, her body were pure sensation, driving him, pushing him. His mouth moved desperately against her skin. As he reached the the nape of her neck, he sucked, no, he bit, and, he no doubt marked her, because he couldn't hold back any more. 

Lost in her scent, her skin, her taste, as she wrapped her entire body around him, surrounded him. Yes, she engulfed him with more sensation then he ever deserved, completely past what he deserved that his brain short circuited. No control now, he could no longer could control his breathing, his actions, nothing. No, his control had checked out, totally deserted him. He wasn't in control. 

Oh, YES, she was killing him. Slowing killing him and he throbbed with need.

He couldn't take much more and his dick throbbed.

Her very hot hands were probing under his shirt, pulling his shirt up, her mouth moved across his chest, feeding from him with her hungry mouth.

Oh, YES, touch him there. Please there.

And her hands. Her hand would be the death of him.

How did she do that to him? He could feel the ring against his skin and the smooth metal scorched him, pushed him over the edge.

"Help me," he told her desperately, as her hands went to his belt, his pants, his boxers, pulling him free, letting him bouncing his dick free in the cold air. And it was wonderful. Past wonderful.

He needed to take her right now. Right very now.

"Oh, yes, Oliver, hurry, do it now. I need you. Now!" she urged him, as she moved her mouth, moved to find his hot skin.

She set him on fire. Sensation crashed like water on a beach. 

He struggled to hold the bike as he braced his legs. Fast hands helped her rid herself of her pants and panties, throwing them to the ground forgotten, but together groaning, gasping they managed to get her naked from the waist down. Then he lifted her as she quickly impaled herself on him with with a deep sexy groan.

Then, nothing but his body demanding to chase his release. Lost, he raced forward with her, and there was no foreplay, no lasting, no waiting, only her skin and his. His body raced to met her as he took her hard and quick, over powering,  and he couldn't even try to make it last.

His blood raced and the feelings rushed through him, surpassing any other person, he had ever known, as she screamed his name, milking his cock, surrounding him, pulling her to him, as he let lose with a roar, his head thrown back,  neck muscles tight, eyes shut, as he rode out the last precious seconds of her possession of him, and he loved it as he rode out their togetherness, and rode out the closeness he had only felt with her, with only her.

Gasping, it was all he could do to keep the bike up and not drop her and him to the ground. 

"Better?" She said smugly, breathlessly, as she smoothly laid out against his chest, and he pulled  her closer,  close. He needed this, needed her.

Wiped out, he could only exist, for that moment.

How did she do this to him? He would never understand. But she did it to him.  Only she took him this high, past everything, yes, everything he had ever experienced.

Yet, he could hear her struggling to breathe.

And, he rubbed her back, lightly touched her, as he waited for the breathing fit to pass, hoping he soothed her.

Now he knew that she would recover soon, that this was normal for them now. So, normal. He would hold her close, as she fought to breathe, and he would soothed her and wait for her breathing fit to be over.

He knew now that he would steal her breathe after sex, and she would figure out how to breathe her way back to him. He knew this, and he would help her come back to him. He needed her to come back to him.

Trying to soothe her, he rubbed her back as he said, "Shh, don't try to talk, yet, you know it makes it harder on you. And, yes, I'm better, now. I needed you, desperately, and I love you, and I hope I can drive the rest of the way home."

"Oliver?" Her voice intense.

"I'm joking, Felicity."

"Not funny. Not at all," she said breathlessly, as she pushed off his chest, her legs still wrapped around his waist. "Maybe you should give up your attempts at humor."

And he laughed. He truly laughed as he pulled her back to him, as he absorbed her, and it felt right.

He heard the car motor a moment before the red lights turn on and the car turned in. Whipping his jacket off, he covered her bare ass, not willing to share her with anyone, and he gave thanks that he hadn't managed in his haste to take her shirt off, her bra off, that he hadn't shown all of her.

She whispered the words, "Jesus, we're busted," as she burrowed her head into his chest, and he  could swear she giggled, knowing he still lay buried deep within her.

However, he wasn't smiling now, as the door on the cop car opened, and he saw the cop from the ER in the light from the car's dome light.

Jeff, he remembered his name. The cop who had let the high kid get his hand gun.

The cop he'd no doubt embarrassed, with his ease of taking that high kid out.

Well now he had been caught with not just his pants down, but, for sure, Felicity's pants down, since they were laying on the ground beside the bike.

This was not going to be good, and he hoped they weren't about to go to jail. He sighed thinking that at least he knew a judge.

"Hey, Jeff," he said.

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Thoughts? Reviews? Thanks for the read.

Until next time, hope they don't go to jail. Well, at least if they do, they know a judge. LOL


	20. Chapter 20

I am going to place a graphic warning on this chapter. Oliver will be in a very dark place by the end of the chapter. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.

#####OQ#####

Jeff placed his tan Stetson on his head, and said in a hard voice "Mr. Queen," as he turned the flashlight toward his eyes, trying to blind him, but Oliver was wiser than that. Turned his head, narrowed his eyes, and found himself hoping they weren't going to jail. If they tried to put in him a cage, he didn't know if he could handle it. His emotions were too raw lately, too close to the surface. He might not be able to stop himself from fighting them. And heaven help him, he didn't want to fight the cops, didn't want to hurt someone.

Charm, Oliver, he thought, if there was ever a time you needed charm, it was right now. "No, Mr. Queen was my father. And I'm thinking that is a little too formal for this situation. Please call me, Oliver."

Felicity laughed under his coat and he almost laughed himself.

"Do you think this is funny?" His voice a solid cop's voice, hard and impersonal. Quentin Lance would have been proud, when Jeff's flashlight beam shined on Felicity's clothes on the ground, making a point.

Yes, they were past busted. His lip twitched and he wanted to smile.

Felicity's head popped out from under his coat. "Well, of course, it's funny. We're grown adults, and we're acting like teenagers, and we got busted, so busted. Not, just a little busted, but, the check mate of busted, past even that. Not a story we want to tell our children about, ever." And she laughed, a bubbly nervous laugh, that he found to be infectious and made him smile against his will, especially when she continued by saying, "Whoa, not that we have ever discussed children. Yet. Or that I'm pregnant. I'm on the depo. So, not having a baby right now. Forget I ever said that. Please just tell me you aren't going to take us to jail? I have never even gotten a speeding ticket and stop smiling like you're proud of yourself, Oliver, for this is totally your fault. Can I just cover my head back up, now?"

"Felicity, you're probably not helping." But when he looked at Jeff, he saw the slight smile that she had just put on Jeff's face, and he knew that she did that to people. Felicity made people smile, especially him.

The man just shook his head. "Is she like this all the time?"

"Yes, especially when she's nervous. I find it amusing, however."

"I bet you do. My wife amuses me too. Probably one of the reasons I married her, well that and others." And he cleared his throat.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not in the room, even though this is hardly a room. Maybe, Oliver, you should have gotten a room. Never mind that came out wrong. And if you hadn't given me an engagement ring tonight, we would be home in our bed, where we belong. Oh, my brain thinks of the worst way to say things some times. But surely you aren't going to arrest us? That would be a terrible ending to one of the best days of my life. I mean, I got my first engagement ring, well my second, but I like this one way better, and I had my first motorcycle ride. I mean this is the first day I rode a motorcycle. Oh, that came out wrong too. Now I'm literally just going to be quiet right now."

Jeff couldn't stop his smile this time, and Oliver let out a breath of true relief. "No, Ma'am, I'm not going to arrest you. Congratulations on your engagement. No, I think I will just get back in my car, before this becomes more uncomfortable that it already has. And Oliver, the kids call this the spot, the make out spot. I run them out of here all the time, honestly, I'd find a place a little more private, well, for next time."

"There's not going to be a next time," Felicity's voice was hard.

He opened his car door and then looked at him hard in the eye. "And, I would think this would make us even for that night in the ER."

"More than even. I owe you one, Jeff. Thank you."

Jeff grinned as he tipped his hat to them. "And let me say that it's good to see you're feeling better, Ms. Felicity. I know it was touch and go for a while for you. Good evening, to both of you and congratulations again."

And  Felicity laughed and he did too, as Jeff drove away.

"You're as bad, as ever." Her cheeks bright pink, as she climbed off of him, and he instantly missed her warmth. "And, I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my entire life."

"I'm just thankful you can babble, for I have a feeling that's the only reason we aren't sitting in the back of a squad car right now, headed to jail. He was as amused by you as I am."

She handed him his jacket back, and he laid it across the gas tank, as he tried to get himself back together, as he watched her step back into her clothes. She was sexy standing in the moonlight pulling her pants on, and he truly just wanted to take them off her again.

"Let's go home, Felicity." 

She looked at him with a slight smile and oh, how his light heart sped up.

####OQ#####

Sex had been past awesome, as later they lay in the bed together, intertwined. How he loved his skin touching hers. How did touching and having her get better and better?

"Hold me. I'm really tired."

He kissed her forehead and then pulled her close. She sighed deeply, and before he knew it he'd slipped away into sleep.

#####OQ#####

Someone pulled the bag off his head, and the light, from the bare bulb, blinded him. Instantly waking now, he realized he was chained. He tested the shackles that held him, carefully, he wrapped his hands around the cold solid metal that hung him suspended him from the ceiling, and he pulled, but there was no give. Nothing, no escape. He tried his legs, but they were shackled, too.

Head pounding, his arms almost numb, he knew he must have had been suspended for quite some time, and he had no idea where he was. It looked like an interior room of a warehouse.

But, how had he gotten here? The last clear thing he remembered he had left Tatsu and boarded a ship headed away from China. They had been out to sea a couple of weeks, but now the room was too still, too motionless for him to still be on the ocean. No, he could still smell the ocean, but he was on land.

And he wasn't alone.

"I hear you. What do you want? I have nothing left to take."

"Strip his shirt. I want to see his chest." From behind, someone ripped his shirt his back, baring him.

"Answer me."

They were behind him. A least three maybe more. One of them smoked, the scent of tabacco and they were talking in low tones.

"Shut up. No one told you to talk."

"Release me." He fought the chains, and someone hit him with a volt of electricity, strong enough to stop him, strong enough to make him scream, as his body jumped of it's own accord. Suddenly, he had no control, which caused him to drop hard against the shackles. Free falling, he was momentary helpless against the electrical volts, against the pain that surged through his every nerve ending, against the pain that suddenly seemed never ending.

"He's strong from the looks of him. Only scarred up a little bit, though he has a really wicked scar on his abs. That was what made me think of you. He's been stabbed repeatedly, and I know your boss has certain, let's call it, tastes. I'm sure he would love him."

"Yes, that one. I see it. Yea, he'd like that. Broad chest too. He'll make that one into a work of art, for sure."

"And the scars prove he is a survivor, which means he should last a while both in and out of the ring. Captain said he was a real fighter, a cold one. But he's going to be expensive."

"Well he won't like the tattoo on the left shoulder. He prefers the left side, so I want a discount for that."

"But the right side's still clear."

"I guess he can work with it. Okay, how much?"

"Since he's young and can hold his own. Hmm?"

He couldn't react, his body was still trying to recover from the electrical shock, but he recognized the ship's first mate's voice.

"How much? I'm in a hurry."

No, this couldn't be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Wake up, Oliver. Wake up. Heaven help him, they were discussing him like a side of beef. He was smart enough to realize the first mate was selling him, that the captain of the ship had somehow drugged him and was now selling him because he could fight.

Would his life ever be free of someone wanting him to fight for them?

He found his voice."No, wait. You can't do this to me. If it's money you want, my family has money. They'd give you three times the price, no four times the price, for me. Call my mother. Just call my mother. She'll pay ransom for me, pay deary for me."

"I told you to shut up." And someone hit him again with the electricity making him scream and scream until the darkness came.

He woke up still in chains, with two of them dragging him down a hall, out into the blinding sunlight before they tossed him in a trunk of a car and locked him in the darkness.

The ride was cold, bumpy, and long and the chains were too strong to overcome. He tried repeatedly to nap, as the hours pasted, trying to conserve his energy, and he snapped awake when the sunlight blinded him again, yet again, when the trunk finally opened. A large gray bearded man with a wide scar on his check held up a long stick and pressed a button.

Blue flame jumped and the sound hissed in the air. He said conversationally, "I'll give you a choice. Easy or hard?"

He let the silence go on before replying. "Easy." He knew he couldn't fight the electricity, and he could do recon only if his eyes were open. He might not escape today, but he needed to know where he was. How many guards? How tall the walls were? Treat this like a mission. Get in the game, Oliver. Pay attention, it might save your life later.

"If you try something, I'll make it really hard. I'll hurt you. And I know you're thinking about escaping. Who can blame you? I've been there, but trust me, you'll regret playing me. And you need to understand that there is no escape from this place. Believe me I've tried."

"I understand I'm in chains. I won't fight you."

Too chained to walk, he was helpless as they dragged him again, across the dirt and into a stone building.

It was a fortress of some type. Tall walls, guards on the walls with automatic weapons. He counted six men in a matter of seconds. The house was big to his left. There was a training compound. Jeeps and SUV's. A man walking a large dog. A huge stone building.

They dragged him down into the stone building and entered a door, and they dragged him down, underground. The air was damp now, the lighting low, and there was mold on the walls. With no way to stop them, he could do nothing to defend himself, as they hung his arm shackles to a hook from the ceiling and hooked his leg shackles to a ring on the floor, and then left him to wait, helpless, and bitterly angry at the world. The only thing he had to be thankful for was that his feet could touch the ground.

He didn't have to wait for long.

"Your name?" A man's voice came out of the shadows and it was deceivingly pleasant.

And the tone made his skin crawl.

Oliver, sighed deeply. "Does it matter, anymore?"

"No, probably not. Smart aren't you?"

"Not today, since I'm the one in the chains."

"Hmm, but you seem smarter than most of them. Well, give me your name anyway. I paid for it." The voice held an foreign accent, that wasn't Chinese, but something else.

His hate was drowning him, sucking him down. "Oliver Queen. I also don't suppose that is matters that my family is wealthy, that they'd pay for my safe return."

"No, you're right it doesn't matter, I'm not calling them. I like what I see."

The man put his hands on his back, touching his tattoo, the scar on his shoulder, and his heart beat hard enough to explode in his chest. He pushed the fear down but it was impossible.

"Oliver, my name is Hedeon. It's a strong name that means destroyer in Russian. And you're right your name doesn't matter anymore for now you belong to me."

"I belong to myself. Ransom me. If you will just call my mother, she'll pay dearly for me. My mother's rich."

Hedeon, stepped into his view. He was a small balding man, who had a belly, a baby face, and was fingering the tip of a very wicked looking knife. Oliver grimaced at the man's words. "I don't need money. I have other needs though, and you will do nicely for them. Such a nice chest, broad back, yes, you're indeed a work of art."

Using his blade to drag across Oliver's skin, Hedeon smiled, and he couldn't suppress the shudder, as the fear raged through him. He had been here before, helpless, restrained, waiting for a crazy man with a knife to decide what to do to him. He tried to steel himself, to find a place in his mind to go when the pain came.

"I hear you fight well. So, now you will fight for me and then maybe later, if you're lucky, I will sell you back to your mother. But for right now, you belong to me."

He couldn't stop himself, though why he would cross a crazy man with a knife was beyond him. But he had to say it.

"I BELONG TO MYSELF."

"Such defiance, we'll have to work on that. I will cut that right out of you." Again he drug his blade across Oliver's skin. "I gave a lot of money for you, so you are, shall I say, indentured to me. I own you."

The man walked behind him, and, with no warning, he sliced his skin. Savagely, he cut his back, starting near his right shoulder and slicing down his back, making him cry out. The next mark came swiftly, again near his shoulder and long down his back.

The pain was like a living thing, snapping at his senses and it possessed sharp claws, forcing him to cry out, forcing his chest to heave, forcing him to fight the chains, as the pain reigned supreme. The metallic smell of his blood filled the air.

Hedeon took his time with the next cut. It was slow and controlled as it crossed both of the other cuts and yes, it was meant to be painful. And yes, he screamed, and cursed the man.

"You're my property and now you wear my mark. I mark all my property with an H. Everyone for miles knows my mark. And no one in their right mind will help you escape. And you will fight for me. You will win for me or you will be very, very sorry."

"You can't make me fight, and I'm going to KILL you." He was angry, and the hate strong in him. He reached for the darkness inside him.

"Oh, I'd like to see that, and, I will make you do anything I want you to do. You'd be surprised what you will do to avoid my blade, to avoid my punishments. A few days together, and you'll do whatever I tell you to do. You'll even ask me to cut you, will beg me to cut you. You'll see."

"I won't ever ask you to cut me." The rage in him was intense, that it was a living breathing thing. He could snap this man's neck like a twig if he could just get his bare hands on him. He tested the chains again.

"You say that now but understand, I like the blade. I like scars." He slowly ran his knife across the old scar on his abs again. "I would say this one nearly killed you." Slow and carefully, he touched the old scar with the blade, then ran his fingers over it, almost lovingly.

Oliver held his breath, waiting for the blade to plunge into him, wishing for the man to just get it over with, just end this.

"But I like to think of your chest as a blank canvas, rather like a picture I'm painting." Then in a swift move, he slowly opened his skin on his left side beneath his chest and moved the blade downward into his abdomen, slicing him open, skimming his rip cage. A gaping wound appeared in the middle of the cut, and he made the pain last, made him scream in agony, made the blood run freely down his chest, his side. The iron smell of his blood filled the room.

Oliver was in misery, and he could see the man was enjoying what he was doing to him, getting off on his pain.

"Stab the blade in my heart," he demanded. "Finish me."

"Now what fun would that be? We're just getting acquainted. And you bleed very nicely." Again he cut him in the same place on his chest, just a little deeper on the edges this time, making him scream. He was going to pass out from the pain.

"No, you don't. Stay with me. You don't get to black out." Hedeon picked his head up by his hair. "Pay attention. This how it works. I will cut you badly every time you lose a fight and cost me money. I will cut you when you displease me. Try to escape, and I will cut you bad you might just die, but no, you won't die, I'll make you linger." He ran the blade carefully across his chest, not cutting but implying that he could. "I can skin you alive if I want. No one will stop me here. You belong to me. No one will help you. No one will save you here. Get used to the idea. I'll do what I want with you."

And then the man didn't just cut, he stabbed his chest in the gaping hole, going deep enough just to inflect pain and not puncture his lung. And he twisted the blade, savagely.

It was unexpected and it hurt beyond painful, ripping through his already damaged flesh, the knife disrupting all the nerves ending, as the man stabbed him in the same spot again. Then he pulled the knife out slowing and cut him again, laying the flesh open.

He gasped. "If you break my ribs I won't be able to fight."

"It's not time for you to fight, yet. Don't worry you won't die from this. I know exactly what I'm doing here. Ask me to cut you. I want you to ask me for the pain."

"NO!" But he couldn't stop the scream that erupted from him. He couldn't control the intense pain engulfing him, the clawing pain that lashed him. And then he cut him again, and again and made him scream, made him beg him to stop, made him scream until he couldn't scream any more but he refused to ask for the blade.

Then he left him to hang, bleeding, with the words, "You're mine now. I'll do with you what I want. And, Oliver, before it is over, believe me you will ask for the pain."

The cage he woke up in was too small, too small for his large frame. He couldn't even sit up, couldn't hardly move, and he had to lay on his side, and he smelled like blood. Someone had bandaged the wounds on his chest and back and the wounds were now a bitter ache, the pain constant and pounding with every beat of his heart. When he looked at the wound on his chest, he could see someone had stitched it with ragged stitches, but it was still gaping and bleeding.

But as time pasted the cage became worse than the pain in his chest, for he couldn't stretch out. He couldn't sit up. He couldn't lay down, not even with his knees bent. His body cramped from the small space, the almost same position, the small space forced him to lay in. The wire of the cage hurt the marks on his back and amplified the pain in his chest. No one brought him food or water and all he had was his own dark misery and his hate and the never ending pain.

Finally the door opened, and a stone faced man walked in and whispered, "Welcome to hell. You need to do what he wants. He's going to win, anyway. And he'll wait you out. You're making your suffering last longer and you're going to do what he wants anyway."

"Please, help me."

The man shook his head, his expression sad. "I can't. I shouldn't even be here. If I get caught it would be me back in that cage and there are worse things he can do to a man. I would know. I just wanted to warn you."

The man stood and lifted his shirt baring his back to show a huge thick H scar across his left shoulder. His back a road map of scars, knife wounds, as he turned and showed his chest that was scarred repeatedly. "I wasn't a good fighter. I hope for your sake you are. But don't fight him or he will do this to you."

And he left him alone.

The hours passed, night turned to day and back to night. And the longer he stayed in the small cage the more it tortured his body because he couldn't unfold his large frame. As time pasted, for him to stay in the cage became agony. More time passed and he finally swallowed his pride and cried out, calling for a guard, begged him to call Hedeon to let him out.

Finally the guard came. "Please," he begged. "Tell him, I will do what he wants. No more, don't do this to me anymore. If he wants me to fight, I will, just let me out of this cage. PLEASE, tell him to let me out. I need out!"

"You know what he wants, are you ready for that?" asked the guard in a dark voice.

"No, but yes."

And he left the room.

More hours passed, the small cage literally killing him, had broken him. Finally, Hedeon returned, and he had brought his knife and four men with long stick tasers. He knew he would lose if he fought. There would be no escaping this.

Hedeon gave him a sly smile. "You know what it takes to get out. You'll ask me to cut you. You'll take the blade without restrains. If you resist, they will put you down and you'll go back in the cage for at least two days before I'll even think about letting you back out. So, on your knees and ask me to cut you."

He had to do it. Forcing himself, he swallowed hard.

He didn't want to, but he would trade one pain for another to escape the small cage.

Screaming, sitting straight up, he came out of the dream desperate, hyperventilating, the pain from the knife's blade still tormenting him, his legs cramping, his very body cramping from the small space. He hurt everywhere, and the pain was still very real at this moment, still overpowering his senses.

"Oliver, Oliver. Wake up. Come back to me. I'm right here. Can I touch you?"

"No," he hissed. "No, DON'T. No, NO. Not, yet! Don't touch me!"

Hedeon's blade ripped his skin, cutting him, the tiny cage cramped him, and the smell of his own blood filled the air.

"Shh, okay, it's okay. It's a dream. A nightmare. Wake up, Oliver. It's okay."

But it wasn't.

No, in his mind, he was still in Hedeon's dungeon, back in the cage. Hedeon opened the door. Forcing himself, he crawled out. Knowing he was weak, he told himself that he could do this. Carefully, almost falling, he went to his knees. He had no choice, even with the anger burning him. The small cage was worse than the blade. He would go insane if he stayed in the small cage.

"Ask for it," Hedeon was smug, ripping his bandage off his back.

His words were bitter. "Cut me. Just cut me."

Fisting his hands, he braced himself, as first the man drug his blade across the H lines, not cutting just touching, which was painful enough, his skin making it worse by flinching, but that was nothing compared to the liquid pain of a sharp knife slicing across his back, nothing as bad as the re-cutting of the same lines across his right shoulder and down his back. But, this time he barely screamed.

He understood that Hedeon wanted him to scream, so he defied him. It was something he could control. And he needed to control something right now. It was hard but he refused to scream for him. He would cheat him of the privilege of hearing him scream.

Another, yet, another cut of pure, slow liquid pain and one more that crossed both marks, re-cutting the barely healing H on his shoulder that ran long down his back. He screamed on the final cut, but he bit it off, sharply.

Then, Hedeon ripped the bandage away from his chest and he knew, heaven help him, he knew.

"Ask again. Ask me to take those stitches out."

His breath started coming in hard gasps. He was still trapped in the past. His hand went to the scar on his chest, and he expected to feel blood, to smell that metallic scent, for even now the hot, aching pain throbbed with each beat of his heart. And the H scar on his back throbbing too, aching from Hedeon's knife, long healed but throbbing with his every heart beat.

And, he knew Hedeon was going to cut him again, widen the scar on his chest.

She was trying to bring him back, talking to him. But, he couldn't seem to find his way back to her, to find a way back from the terror, the pain, and back from Hedeon's sharp blade. He could see the blade removing the first stitch and he whimpered.

"Oliver, shh. Listen to me. You're not there. NOT THERE! I don't know where you are but you're not there now. You're here with me. Breathe, Oliver. Use your good memory. Remember the sunset, me, my scent. Smell me, Oliver. Step away from that memory."

She still wasn't touching him, was probably afraid to touch him.

He'd be afraid to touch him.

But, yes, he could smell her, not his blood, but her, as he scrubbed his face with his hands and his brain engaged.

He realized Felicity was talking to him, that he wasn't there anymore, that he had escaped the blade, that no one could hurt him like that now. But still his heart hammered, his breath came in short gasps. And he made himself reach out for her, reach for her touch, her scent to ground him. He reached for solid prove that he wasn't there anymore. And he let her pull him into her embrace and put his head on her chest and listened to her heart beat.

She grounded him, returned him to now.

"Where were you?" She asked in a small voice.

He hesitated then told the truth. "In hell, Felicity. I was trapped in hell in a small cage."

She reached to rub his back and touched his H scar, and he came straight up out of her arms.

"Don't touch it right now. I can't stand it. It's throbbing."

"What?"

"The scar on my back. The H. I'm sorry, but don't touch it right now. It'll calm down soon. I've had this dream before. And don't touch my chest either. It aches."

"Where can I touch you?"

"Nowhere, I can't handle it right now. Just let me hold you loosely, but don't touch my chest or my back. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I understand. We'll work it out."

And he held her until she finally fell back to sleep in his arms, not quite touching him, but for him, sleep was done for the night. No, he didn't dare sleep again and invite that sadist, butcher, named Hedeon back into his dreams.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read. Love to hear your reviews.

And I like stars! Please leave one if you think this work deserves it.


	21. Chapter 21

Again, I place a warning on this chapter. Oliver is still dreaming in the second half.

#####OQ#####

After his shower, wearing only his boxers, he walked on silent feet into the bedroom. Felicity was waiting on him, lying in the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, and looking so very sexy, with her tablet and her sharp eyes. He could tell she was admiring him, and it felt good. And, it was nice to not have to cover up, not to hide the scars, the memories from her sight. She had assured him repeatedly that the scars didn't brother her, and he felt free not having to cover the scars up, to not be ashamed of the scars, to be bare chested.

He knew she was waiting on him because after a lot of discussion, she had convinced him that he needed to treat the soccer team like a mission, needed to do recon on HIS team. And that was the way she thought of it. They were HIS TEAM.

So, the more he knew about his team the better. So, for days, he had been doing recon on his team, and she had been keeping notes for him. He had been out tonight following several of them, and now, she was waiting on him, to debrief, to share with her. It was becoming a pattern, a life for them.

"Recon went well?" she asked brightly, her eyes sparkling, shining with anticipation. She is enjoying this, he thought, and yes, he missed being the Arrow, and doing recon on these teens was like a breath of fresh air. It was just what he needed, what he craved, and what he wanted.

"Yeah," he said, drinking in the sight of her bare long legs, and he felt his blood quicken, felt his desire peak for her.

Oh how she turned him on.

"Who's first?" She asked cheerfully, and he could tell Felicity missed him being the Arrow too, missed the thrill of having a purpose, a mission. And he knew she was taking HIS TEAM very seriously. She had been drilling him unmercifully and learning twenty's people's bios was harder than he thought it would be, for he got them mixed up sometimes.

Flopping down on the bed beside her, he reached and feathered his fingers down her long bare leg and back up, just a whisper of a touch, just a promise of things to come. Oh, how he loved being able to touch her. He didn't know if he would ever take the fact he could touch her for granted, since he had waited so long to touch her, ached so long to really touch her.

Grinning broadly, she said, "Quit, Oliver. First practice is in six days, and first game is in six weeks. We don't have much time. So stop touching me because you aren't good at multi-tasking when it comes to sex, for you are a guy, so you get one minded and just want sex. So, homework first, sex later," and she kicked his hand playfully away, but her foot was now touching his bare leg.

Yet, he knew she was right, he would throw soccer homework right out the window and go straight to the sex part if he kept touching her. However, he didn't say a word about her foot touching him, for he liked it, no, he savored it. No, he wouldn't stop her from touching him. Ever.

"This is homework." He said, still wanting to tease her, as his hand caught her cheek and he said, "And you're my home, Felicity." And his hand softly skimmed her cheek, as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Yet, she gave him that look, over her glasses, which said, 'I mean it,' so he stretched out beside her and let her be, knowing he would get to really touch her later, so he could wait.

"So who did you follow around in the dark tonight?" She asked cheerfully.

"Nick Mitchell."

"Let me find his file." Her fingers flew across the screen, and he saw Nick's picture come up on the screen just before she pulled the tablet against her chest and ask, "And he's in trouble for what?"

She was quizzing him and he smiled. Then he imagined the 16-year-old high school junior, who was short and stocky with red hair and wire framed glasses.

"Vandalism. He's my artist. Got busted for spray-painting repeatedly. Likes to mark his work, which gets him busted. Not exactly smart on his part."

"If he was smart he wouldn't be in juvenile court and be court ordered to play on your team. But the artist is Stan Markton. Now what's Nick Mitchell's in trouble for? Try again."

"Alright. Dealing pot. One possession charge. Two times tobacco possession in the last year at school. Fails the drug test every time they test him. And if tonight is any indentation, he's still dealing and testing him this week would be a waste of a test."

"Bingo and why am I not surprised?" She said dryly. "Okay, what else do you know about him?" As she sat up and laid the tablet against her knees, he watched the t-shirt hike up, showing just a small amount of red panties, while greatly improving his view of bare flesh, and he licked his lips, thinking about later.

"Oliver? I'm waiting here. Is he still smoking?"

He forced himself to concentrate before he said, "Yes, Nick is still smoking cigarettes. A habit he is about to give up if he wants to breathe, when we start training or the running is going to kill him and about seven others."

She gave a small laugh and said, "You're right eight of them smoke. And I would say that the campaign to keep teens from smoking doesn't seem to be working. So, go on," she said as she typed on what he thought was a way too tiny keyboard. His one hand was bigger than the entire keyboard she was rapidly typing on. How did she do that?

"Nick works part time job at a grocery store. He sacks groceries and pushes carts, mainly in the evenings. No parents, mom is gone to who knows where and dad's in prison as a repeat offender, dealing pot mainly."

"The apple didn't fall far from the tree here."

"Yea, but it looks like he is helping to support his grandparents."

"Which are mom's or dad's side of the family?"

"Mom's. No wait. It's Stan that is living with mom's side of the family. So, Nick lives with Dad's side of the family and he has two younger sisters." He was ticking the list off in his mind. "Nick's grandfather is sick, and from the looks of it, he isn't long for this world. Grandmother works cashier at the same grocery store. And even though he's 16, he walks and rides a bike, probably because he doesn't own a car."

"Well he probably can't afford the insurance. And you're wrong, Stan lives with his aunt. It's Dean that lives with his grandmother, on his mom's side. How much probation does he have left?"

"Grr, okay Stan lives with his aunt. He's the joyrider, who stole a car at the mall and then passed out in it? Right?"

"No, that's Drew McAdams, public drunk, joy riding. Back to Nick. How much probation does he have left?"

"I give up. A lot? Come on, do I have to know that?" He scrubbed him face with his hands and said, "There too many of them and I can't even keep their family lives straight. How about, I'll just ask you when I want to know how much probation they have left." And he tilted his head at her with look he hoped said please.

"You know your charm doesn't always work, and I'm not your executive assistant, Oliver."

"No, you're my partner. So, work with me here."

He gave her a look and a slight grin and she said, "All right, the answer is nine months."

Now his smile was real and he said, "Right, until Nick gets busted again, which could have been tonight. Both for possession of pot, tobacco, and for dealing."

"Well, you're going to reform him. Right, Oliver?"

He wasn't so sure he could reform any of these kids, so, he let the silence stretch out, until Felicity said, "Okay, moving on. Next kid you followed tonight."

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he said, "Scott Wells, 17, senior. Richest kid on the team. Drives an awesome 2009 Super Bee. It's orange, rather, that year was was made in 'Hemi Orange Pearl Coat' only, with a limited production run of only 425 cars. I so want his car."

"What is it with men and their cars? It doesn't impress me."

Now, her fingers were dragging down his side, and he inhaled sharply but played along, savoring her touch. Playing, easily with his boxer's waistband, her fingers swept lower, and his breath caught, before he said, "Well, his car impresses me. I want his CAR. It has a 6.1L engine and is a muscle car. It's better than he deserves."

"You can stop right there because you are talking a foreign language when you go talking cars. Just go on and speak Russian and be done with it."

"Okay, Ты моя жизнь, мое сердце," he said, as his hand reached out to touch her check, and she leaned into his hand, and he smiled, as his heart contracted and warmed. Oh, how he meant what he had just said, so meant it. She was so his heart now.

"Now, I really don't know what you said, but I know that you're such a guy sometimes, especially about bikes and cars. Who knew? So what did you say in Russian? It sounded so sexy. Tell me in English."

Her mouth moved suddenly to suck the nape of his neck, and he exhaled before he replied, "I said, you are my life, my love. And I mean it, Felicity. You are."

"That's sweet, Oliver."

"And Felicity, if you don't stop sucking my neck, I'm going to touch back, and I'm not going to stop, and we are going to be done with soccer homework, for you are so good at making me crazy. Who knew?"

She laughed and he smiled, as she said, "Oh, I knew and I've thought of you a lot, Oliver. Okay, talk about the kid not the car." And she leaned over and nipped his ear and whispered the words, "You just wait, you're going to love the things I am going to do to you later, after we finish debriefing."

And his blood rushed, as he said, "I tailed Scott to the projects, watched him move some pills, he probably stole from his parent's medicine cabinet, to some kids on the street. Then I tailed him back to his nice home, in his very nice orange muscle car. He's a spoiled little rich boy and the only one with two parents that are still married."

"And you don't like him."

"I never said that."

"You don't have to. It shows in your voice, in the way you describe him. He's rich and is selling pills, so, maybe, just maybe, he reminds you of Thea's drug dealer, the one, you know, the one you told me about on the plane."

He leaned in and inhaled her scent before he said, "Maybe."

"No, maybe? Admit it, Oliver. You don't like him. Maybe, he also reminds you too much of you. "

"Okay, you're right, I don't like him. He is too much like me. Just like me when I was young, except I wasn't selling pills. He has it all, and he is just wasting it. Just like, I had everything, and all I did was party it away until the boat sank and then my entire world was devastated for years. I was a stupid fool when I was young."

"And it's sad that you have 20 kids and most of them live at the poverty level and this wealthy guy is wasting his chance, blowing off what he thinks he deserves. I get that. Wait where are my numbers?" Her fingers flew across the screen and she said, "You should learn this. Most of your team lives in low income housing, five come from the middle class, and lived on the other side of the tracks, so to speak, even though I realize that there are no tracks, since this is a fishing slash tourist town." She was talking with her hands and that so turned him on that it was all he could do to hold back, not to throw her down on the bed and just take her hard, but he managed to smile, when she stopped, frowned at him and said, "What, Oliver?"

"Nothing, go on," he said with a grin, for if he told her what he was thinking, he would make her blush.

"So that means 14 are poverty level, 5 are middle class and one is like you, RICH."

"Okay, got it. 14 poverty, 5 middle class and 1 Richie Rich, though I admit I liked the comics more than him."

"I'm ignoring that comment. And who knew you read comics?"

"When I was a child, Felicity. And four of my team is for sure selling drugs. I am going to have to do something about those kids even though their just moving pills and pot. You're not got going to be on my team and sell drugs or do them."

"Well at it least it isn't chemicals, Oliver. They could be dealing crystal meth or coke."

"I know, but dealing drugs is still breaking the terms of their probation, and I'm trying to care about these kids. I want them to have a chance to do something different. I want to give them a chance to not go to jail."

"I know you do, so did you learn anything else tonight?"

"Tyler's girlfriend is very pregnant." Eyeing Felicity's stomach, he remembered that tonight when Tyler had put his careful hand on his girlfriend's huge stomach, Tyler had smiled, like he was in awe. And something deep inside had touched him, and he had wanted, what he knew he could never have. Then he had wondered, why he did he think he could never have a child?

He had thought, he could never have Felicity and love and here they were. And it was, so very crazy, but it was the best life he had lived in a really long time. Touching her, breathing her scent in, sleeping with her, just being with her, so grounded him, make his life so real, so good. He didn't know how he deserved this? But he just hoped that he could just have a few more days of this, of such happiness. Even if the dreams came at night, this time in his life was so good, so very good.

So, for just a second, for the second time tonight, Oliver gave some thought to someday having a baby with Felicity. He understood that someday Felicity would want a child, that maybe he would want a child, too.

It was natural. The human race was made to procreate. It was a major part of a human's DNA, and he understood that.

He glanced again at her stomach, and without saying a word, his hand reached and feathered across her stomach, and then he quickly released her. Carefully, his hand swept up her side and then away, and he wondered what it would be like to watch her carry his child, to have what Dig had. It was foolish, but he suddenly ached to be a dad, to be responsible for a baby, a child, and, unexpectedly, as he lay in the bed with her, safe, content, and so comfortable and happy, a baby really didn't seem so totally impossible.

Yeah, maybe he could do a child.

"You've got goofy grin, Oliver. What are you thinking about?" And her smile was like sunlight to him, for it warmed him.

But, he pushed those foolish, fantasy filled thoughts away and lied to her, afraid to broach the subject, as he said, "Tyler's, girlfriend is due pretty soon, and Tyler looks like he is trying to help support her, though she is still living at home with her mother."

"And what else do you know about him? I've got his file pulled up now."

She was quizzing him, just as she had been the last few nights. Twenty kids were a lot, and he was trying to figure each of them out, trying to understand their situations.

For days now, he had been watching them, keeping to the shadows, to their rooftops, outside their windows. He had been sneaking around like he knew how to do best. He had scoped out their neighborhoods, and, yes, their homes, and he had been in each of their bedrooms. Most of them were pure teenage boys, and lived in dirty bedrooms, that they shared with other siblings.

Clothes, trash, and smelly shoes where thrown about the floor in most of their room. He had seen it all. Rooms that held unmade beds, and smelled like teenage boys and stale pizza boxes. A few of their rooms were passable, beds made, trash and clothes off the floor, proving that someone, mainly grandma's he had noticed, was making them pick up their rooms. But then some of their rooms held liquor bottles hid under the bed and stashes of drugs.

He had been beyond not pleased about that.

Phil Rice was one of them drinking, and Phil was really drinking. He had been busted for passing out at school twice, once at 10:00 AM. Teacher found him passed out in the bathroom, hugging the toilet. And, he was only 15, a sophomore. A solid C student, which meant he could be a solid A student if he didn't go to school drunk. His dad was raising him and an older brother. Mom had died of cancer a couple of years ago, and Phil was drinking pretty heavy, but then so was his dad from the amount of empties in his trash. The inside of their apartment was a hellhole. Someone, maybe more that one had beaten their home up. Phil's home was filled with fist sized holes in the drywall, lots of holes in the walls, and broken things were thrown on the floor. There broken dishes in the sink. The entire place was a real war zone that no one had bothered to clean up, so either Phil or Dad, the brother and maybe all, were angry and violent.

"Oliver, where are you? We are talking about Tyler."

"Right." He forced himself to concentrate, and said, "Tyler is the only one of the 20 that is a single child. He has decent grades, a requirement to be on the team."

"Warren thinks all of these kids have a shot at going to college."

"Yea, right, if the stars all aliened, and the moon turns blue."

"That's a bad attitude, Oliver." And she threw a pillow at him, and he easily tugged the tablet away, tossed it on the bed, and wrestled her beneath him.

She smiled up at him with her hair spread around her like gold and said, "Homework, Oliver. What is Warren trying to do with this program?"

But, he was tired of this homework. No, he wanted to play now, wanted to touch her, but he said, "I know. Warren is trying to change their lives, to give them a choice other than the dealing and the drugs. Warren is hoping that they would use their brains and become productive citizens. And for some insane reason, he thinks playing soccer will change these teenagers' lives."

Trying to kiss her, he groaned when she turned her head and said, "Correct. No, I mean it, Oliver, homework first. Warren thinks if they are a part of something good, something that gives them pride in themselves, that they might want more out of life. Now, tell me about Tyler." But she was threading her fingers through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, and he was finding it hard to focus.

He nibbled her neck and then said, "Tyler. Got busted for shoplifting cold meds at the super center and was so nice about it, he didn't even get banned from the store."

"Which never happens. Three of your other team players are banned for shoplifting at the super center. Do you remember their names?"

"No. But I know that Tyler works at the pizza place, cooks and does prep. He mainly lives alone, since his mother tends bar and works late nights. Tyler comes home to no one, and maybe that reason he doesn't seem to mind his girlfriend being pregnant."

"It's just so young to be having babies. How old is she?"

He lifted his mouth from her skin and caught her eyes before he said, "I'd say about 16. And yes, it's sad. And what's really sad is Tyler is the fourth of the team that already has a child or one on the way. And I can't see where any of them have the finances to support their children."

"I know, Oliver."

Yes, that part of his recon had shocked him. Here, he was a man, and he couldn't truly fathom having a child with a woman he loved. And here were these kids, not yet out of high school, on probation, some of them on double probation and the possibility of real jail in their near future, and they were making more kids for society to raise.

The cycle was starting over.

"Oliver, you're tired, for you keep zoning out." Felicity pushed him off of her and reached for her tablet.

He rolled over and stretched and yawned. She was right he was really tired. He hadn't slept well in days and it was strange how his body was craving more sleep. He had gone years on little to no sleep and had never really missed sleeping. But after just a short time of sleeping 5 to 7 hours a night next to her, he really missed the rest, missed waking up refreshed. This only a couple of hours of sleep a night was draining him. But his dreams were really bad right now and sleeping was to invite the dreams.

She placed the tablet on the bedside table and then turning to him, she said, "Okay, Oliver. It's been three nights. Let's talk about the dream. I know they you're locked in a cage, a small cage."

"Felicity, no."

"I know you can't talk about this, ever. Heard that one more than once. But you know what else do I know?"

"You're not listening, Felicity."

"No, I'm not." She smiled at him then moved into his space, into his arms and her scent engulfed him. He sighed and shut his eyes. Hoping, though he didn't believe in hoping, but he was hoping she would let it go.

Then she shot hope right out of the water by saying, "Okay and I know this concerns the scar on your chest right here." And his eyes snapped open, as she suddenly laid her hand on the thick scar on his chest and his flesh flinched beneath her hand.

He didn't mean to pull away from her, but suddenly he was in survival mode, and he jerked away from her touch. And in bad form, he dumped her off his chest, as he sat straight up and pushed her away.

Felicity landed on her back and looked up at him like had lost his mind. Instantly he felt guilty, and said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that, to push you away like that."

"Oliver, are you in pain?"

She sat up and reached for him and touched the H on his shoulder and this time he ripped himself from her touch, and moved totally away from her, with the sharp words, "Yes. Just don't touch either of those scars right now. I can't stand it."

The memories came unbidden. His breath was becoming ragged, as thoughts of Hedeon's knife slowly touching his mangled flesh, images of being chained, being helpless, the cages, the slowly ripping living pain were flowing through him. Just that quickly, he was back there. He could almost smell his own blood.

"Oliver, calm down. Breathe, use your good memory, find your control."

"I'm in control." He said savagely, wanting to believe that he was, even if it wasn't exactly true. "I've just been having phantom pain lately. I know it's not there, but I can still feel it. I can ignore it most of the time, but, please, just don't touch those scars. It's like they are fresh again. Like he just cut me."

"Who, Oliver? Who cut you?"

"I can't talk about him. I can't. Don't try to make me relive those days. I don't ask you to relive when Cooper went to jail, when you thought he died."

She had removed her hand, but when he looked at her face, she looked like he had struck her, and he instantly regretted his sharp words.

Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to fix his ugly words by saying, "I'm sorry, I snapped at you. That was hurtful and this is not your fault. I know I'm pushing you away, right now. I just can't handle you touching those two scars for now. It will pass. It always does."

"How did you get them, Oliver? Who gave you those scars? This is what you're dreaming about isn't it?"

He said nothing.

"So that's the way you are going to play it?"

"That's the way it is." He couldn't tell her. He couldn't share such darkness with her, that side of him.

"Maybe these memories are coming back because you're stressing over the team? Maybe coaching isn't such a great idea after all?"

"No, I want to do this. But, yea, maybe the stress is causing the dreams. I don't know. I'm just tired."

"That's because you're not sleeping again. What is causing this, Oliver? What was the trigger this time? We need to figure it out."

"I don't know. All I know is it started a few days ago."

"Are you using the Imagery Rehearsal Therapy? Are you trying to rewrite, telling yourself you can break free of the."

"I'm trying, okay?" He interrupted her before she could say the word cage. "Just leave it alone. Stop pushing me about it." Anger was curling in his belly and his words were becoming sharp again.

"Hey, it's okay. Can you kiss me? Let me help you forget?"

"Yeah, I can try." He slowly placed his lips on hers and pretty soon, her skin, her smell, her pleasure, all that was her, was all that mattered, and the bad memories went away, and he embraced the pleasure that was her, that was them, and he tried to wash away the bad memories that were festering just under the surface.

#####OQ#####

Stitch by agonizing stitch, he slowly suffered though each pull of his tortured flesh, as Hedeon painfully reopened the gaping wound on his chest.

"Ask me," he demanded of him.

"Take out my stitches." He hissed the words at him, and those words hurt almost as much as Hedeon's blade.

"No, Oliver, that is a demand. Ask nicely."

His blade's tip pulled on the stitch, and he was going to break his teeth, as he clinched his teeth together, fighting the intense pain, the overbearing pain. But instead, he said, with his spit flying, "I'm going to kill you."

"Do you want to go back in the cage? ASK!"

"Please, take it out." His anger was exploding inside him, raging, so hot and bright, as if it were burning him up.

"That's better." And Hedeon flicked his wrist removing the stitch, making him stifle his scream, as he pulled through flesh that was healing, flesh that was attached to the stitch, so it hurt more taking the stitch out.

"I swear I am going to kill you." And his spit flew.

"Tough words. Ask me to take the next one out."

He was well aware of the four men that surrounded him. His senses had been on hyper full alert for a while. His adrenaline was rushing, pumping through him. The men surrounding him were getting lax now, believing he was not going to attack, believing that he was just going to continue to take this, to let Hedeon continue to cut him.

Hedeon leaned in to torment him again, and his will, to hold back, to not attack, broke.

Knocking the knife from Hedeon's hand, he snatched the man's arm and threw him at two men behind him, knocking them all to the floor, like bowling pins, knocked here and there. In a smooth motion, he jumped to his feet.

With a roundhouse kick, he took out one of the men still standing and grabbed his taser in mid-air. Using the taser, he dropped the other man beside him to the floor, and then kicked him in the head, putting his lights out.

By this time, the third and fourth men had regained their spots, they were smarter, for they backed away from him.

"Come on." He motioned for them. "And you, I'm coming for." He pointed, as he lit the taser and blue fire jumped.

"Take him out. Don't just stand there, take him out."

The man on his left moved, and he hooked the man's leg with his ankle and clobbered him with the taser, probably breaking his nose on the way down. Jumping, he avoided the other man's taser just before the taser found his skin. Spinning on his heel, he tasered the man then threw him against the wall, kneeing him in the head, for good measure.

Two more men entered the door and the first man engaged him. He moved, grabbing the man's taser as he kicked him in the balls and away. Now, he had two tasers, and he wasted no time using them to take the other man out.

Dropping the tasers, he went after Hedeon. Backing him against the wall, Hedeon was screaming, "Shoot him. Shoot him," and clawing at his chest, as he was choking him, choking the very life out of him.

Suddenly a small pain exploded on the back of his shoulder, and using his forearm on Hedeon's neck, he pinned the man against the wall, as he reached and pulled the dart from his shoulder, throwing it to the floor. His hands moved to snap Hedeon's neck, to finish the job, but his body was suddenly failing him, muscles seizing, even as he saw the floor coming up to meet him, his muscles already refusing to respond.

But he didn't pass out. He was just paralyzed, and he was struggling to breathe.

"Oliver, can you hear me? Roll him over." He could feel the hands rolling him, feel his body, but he couldn't move, couldn't even blink.

Hedeon face came into view and the panic inside him screamed.

"Oliver, are you still in there? Yes, I can see you are. Well, since you want to act like an animal you've been shot with curare to stop you. Do you know what that is? I understand you can't answer so let me enlighten you. It's from certain plants. Very special plants that if used in just the right dose can just paralyze and not kill. As you see, I think we have the right dose, since you are finding it hard to breath but you are still breathing."

Please let him die, he thought, for he knew Hedeon wasn't going to be quick.

"You think you can attack me? Bad idea." Hedeon slapped him, and he felt the pain but couldn't move a muscle and fear engulfed him whole.

Hedeon began to run the knife's tip over his skin. He could feel the blade not cutting, yet, as the man said softly, "Let me teach you about curare, because you are never going to forget this experience. First let me tell you, I seldom use the various plant extracts so early in a relationship. So this is your fault, since you attacked me, so you forced me to step up my timetable, so to speak."

"Curare was first written about in the fifteen hundreds by Sir Walter Raleigh, no less. So it's been around for years. It originates from Central and South America. The South American indigenous people used curare as a paralyzing poison because it didn't taint the meat. They shot their prey with arrows or blowgun darts dipped in curare, which led to asphyxiation because the animal could no longer breath."

Oliver thought that Hedeon's words were practiced, that he had done this many times before, for the words were polished and he was like a statesman, pausing for effect.

And it was working, oh, the fear that was building in him, along with the anger, and the darkness in his mind was horrid.

"But don't worry since you're still alive, then you're going to live. The dose is low enough your respiratory muscles are still contracting. And let me remind you that your pain receptors are still working too." And he cut his chest, and he could only scream in his mind because his mouth didn't work.

"Still with me, Oliver? Here let me shut your eyes, it's hard on the eyes not to blink. They tend to dry out." Hedeon's hand closed his eyes that were too paralyzed to blink and the darkness was so much worse that the light, for now he was blind too, and he knew Hedeon was adding another layer to his agony for now he couldn't see the blade coming.

"Smell, Oliver. Curare smells rather bitter because it is made from the plant's roots."

The smell was earthy and one he would never forget, as pure terror was engulfing him.

Hedeon's voice donned on, "In the 1940s, curare was used several times during surgery. The doctors had mistakenly believed the drug to be an analgesic or anesthetic, where instead it seizes the muscles. However, the patients reported experiencing the full intensity of the pain during the surgery. The doctors didn't know when they were cutting them that their patients were unable to move or do anything about it, since they were essentially paralyzed. But I know, Oliver."

He cut his chest again, and he screamed in his mind.

"The only bad part of this, Oliver, is you can't scream for me this time. And the rest of you can leave us, now. I'll deal with each of you later for letting him attack me."

And he heard the footsteps walk away and the door closed and knew they were alone. Alarm totally smothered him, as he felt the blade in his chest as Hedeon said, "I'll teach you to fight back, to try to attack me."

He came straight up in the bed, hyperventilating, gasping, and covered in sweat, his body slick with it. Heart racing, fear pumping like liquid through his veins, he tried to return to now, to leave that horrific time behind him. No, he never forgot the smell of curare, and that fact had later saved his life when Dead Eye shot him, and he was able to take the antidote in time, but that was the only favor Hedeon ever did for him.

Felicity murmured, somehow she had slept through this dream, for she only turned in her sleep.

He tried to rest, tried to calm his breathing, but his panic was so overwhelming that he had to get up.

No way could he stay in the bed. Slowly, quietly, he crept from her bed for the third night in a row.

It was a little after 3 AM, and he could sleep no more tonight. Quietly, he dressed to run.

Felicity turned over and he froze. She had been very clear of what she thought about him getting up in the middle of the night, but there was no way he could sleep, so again, he crept from the room, taking her tablet with him. As he crept through the kitchen, he left her a note, and then leaned the tablet against the microwave where she would see it, just in case she woke up and came looking for him.

So far, he had been lucky and she hadn't caught him. Returning around dawn, he would climb in the other shower, and then he would erase his message from her tablet, close the program and replace the tablet in exactly the same spot she had left it by the bed. Soundlessly, he would then climb back in the bed with her. Later, he would set his alarm for 6:00 AM and after his hair had dried, he would wake her up by making slow love to her, and afterwards, in complete exhaustion, he would catnap for a little while, until it was time to get up and go and watch someone from his team go to school. It wasn't the best plan, but it was all that he had right now, and he had been doing it for three nights now.

Grabbing the soccer ball from the corner, he silently opened the door. He had been working the soccer ball. Learning to kick the ball up and down the beach and learning how to control the ball. Soccer wasn't his strong suit and controlling the ball was harder than he thought it was going to be. So, he needed the practice, for he had to be better than his team. He was going to make this life work for them. They were going to make a home here. He need, no ached for a home, and he had to believe that the dream would run its course and things would get better.

Yes, he needed a home and so did Felicity. He, so, thanked the heavens that Felicity loved him. He didn't deserve her love, because he was so damaged, past hurt, past scarred, but he was so very glad that she thought he was worthy of her love. And he no longer knew what he would do without her.

He worked the ball up the sandbar and then back again, over and over. He would prefer to hit the punching bag, he had hung on the porch earlier in the week, but that would wake her. Using his fists, put him in the zone, and he would forget to be quiet if he punched the bag. So instead, he chased the soccer ball, as he ran the beach for hours and tried not to think about his time with Hedeon but the memories were still there. So when the sun came up, he quietly crept back into her bed and later fell off in an exhausted sleep.

#####OQ#####

Opening his eyes, he saw the small mesh wire, and Hedeon's face came into view.

"Since you can open your eyes, I'd say the curare is wearing off. And I warned you, Oliver. And I'll give you one more warning. If you want to act like an animal and fight me, I put you back in the cage."

It took a moment to get his voice working but he finally said quietly, "You're right I'm an animal, an animal that should have just snapped your neck, but I wanted to watch you die slowly. I won't make that mistake again."

Hedeon rather colored then said, "I warned you not to fight back."

"And, I warned you that I'm going to kill you. Next time, you won't be so lucky? You're making a serious mistake keeping me alive. I'm going to stop you."

"And you are still threatening to attack me? And, I thought you were smart. Well, Tsk, tsk. I think I will give you some time to think about what you have done, Oliver. All you have to do to avoid punishment is to do what you are told. But since you didn't, I'll see in three days. Yes, I think three days, and we'll try again. Nite, Oliver."

And Hedeon turned the light off on his way out, and plunged him into complete darkness, not only in the room but in his mind.

So, he lay in the darkness, his body cramping in misery, his chest a living throbbing raw surface of pain, as he inhaled sharply, and with every breath he could smell his own blood. His hand when it would finally move again reached and touched and found blood. With every beat of his heart, he seemed to go further into the darkness within him. His body was trembling from the cold, the pain, and he was so hungry and thirsty, as he screamed his total rage into the darkness.

"I'M COMING FOR YOU. JUST FOR YOU. I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. I SWEAR IT." Then he pulled himself into a small uncomfortable ball and tried to sleep.

#####OQ#####

Voices came through the darkness.

"You're bleeding him out."

"It's only been a day. I told him three, so he's not getting out for two more."

"He'll be dead in two. When was the last time he had something to drink? Look at him, he's dying. Don't you see how gray he is? Do you know why he hasn't pissed on himself? It's because he's dehydrated, and he's still bleeding. Oh, never mind, just let him die. Tomorrow, probably tonight, you can have them carry out the corpse. It will save me problems later."

Good, he thought as he reached for the darkness again. It was easier.

"Oliver," someone was saying his name. But he didn't care. It was nice in the darkness.

"Come on, drink. You need to drink."

Wet was being poured on his mouth. And unable to help himself, he opened his chapped lips and the water filled his mouth and he swallowed. But he was still in the cage, still in pain, and he turned his head.

"Come on, again."

"No, let me be."

"No, drink." And the water filled his mouth again and against his will, he drank, for his body refused to spit it out. And the blackness reached to meet him again, until he woke up fighting the confining space, kicking the walls savagely, walls that didn't give and his motion only added to his pain. But that didn't stop him, the pain was becoming a part of him now, he could bear the pain, and he was embracing it, and owning it. But then the fury, the rage inside of him at the unjustness of his life, of how this kept happening to him, had him screaming, and screaming, his mind filled with pure darkness.

"Oliver," her voice was sharp, high pitched. "You're not there. Oliver, stop fighting. Oliver, wake up. Come back to me."

He realized he was screaming and sitting up in the bed. She was saying something to him, but he couldn't focus.

The sun was shining, she was dressed and standing by the door, her face drawn and pale. Somehow, his alarm had not worked, and he had let himself go into REM sleep. And his dream had scared her this time. The fear was there in her face. For just an instant, he had let the animal out and it had frightened her, and the guilt that attacked him was intense. Placing his head in his hands, he snarled at her, "Go away, Felicity."

"No, Oliver."

"I mean it, just please give me some time, some space."

The bed dipped and he knew she wasn't listening to him. AGAIN.

"Don't touch me right now. Don't ask me."

"Okay, I won't. But, come on, get up, and take a shower, cause you are really sweating. What is it with you and sweating, buckets, you can sweat buckets. Me, I have to really work to sweat. And I can't say that I really like to sweat. Ick," And he looked up to see her make one of those Felicity faces at him, and he knew he was awake.

"Now coffee's on and I'm going to try to cook your breakfast this morning."

"Really?" In shock, while his mind was scrambling to grasp the fact that it seemed that she was just going to let the dream go for the morning.

"Really." There was her smile that he felt she reserved just for him.

"Yes, because I love you, I'm going to try to make pancakes. Youtube doesn't make it look that hard, and we have a mix. So, come on and hurry and get up. Because, I might need you to come and rescue me if I get in trouble."

And then she winked at him and climbed off the bed and left him sitting there in wonder that even though, he had just frighten her, Felicity had just assured him that she still loved him. And he knew that she was trying to make him feel better, trying to have a normal life with him, and he wasn't sure if he had ever loved her more than right now, even if she burned his pancakes, which she probably would if he didn't hurry up.

"Oliver," she was hollering, "How hungry are you? Hurry up and come help me find the syrup."

And he rolled out of the bed, knowing that with her beside him, he could face another day, and, yes, another night too.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read. Love to hear from anyone that wants to drop me a note. And yes, we are about to meet the team.

 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Slipping into the gym's shadows, he waited and watched as his misfit soccer team began slowly streaming in, some came in pairs, some came alone to join the others hanging out, but everyone waited for their probation officer to show up.

He found he was a bit antsy, almost nervous, which it was ridiculous to let twenty teenagers shake him up after everything he’d survived, but that didn’t stop the feeling. Pulling her hair tie from its permanent place in his pocket, he rolled it between his fingers, while concentrating on his breathing.

Oliver had asked the boy’s probation officer, Ned Walker, to schedule this meeting, so he could do some last minute recon on the team before actually meeting them face to face. And in order to do that, he needed to see their true selves.

Silently, clinging to the shadows, in a green hoodie, he had observed most of them outside of school during the last week. Several of them played basketball, others video games. Still others, hung out with other gang members on street corners. Several of them did drugs and were drinking, and one them, Phil, who’d just entered the gym, rather staggered in, was doing a lot of drinking.

He watched as Phil stumbled his way to the gym's bleachers and flopped down, and he had a feeling it wasn't soda in the bottle he carried, even if the liquid was dark. No, it was 3:30 p.m. and the teen was already pretty lit. He and Phil were going to have a serious talk really soon, an Arrow kind of talk.

Five of them were kids raising kids, the oldest or middle child, but they were each responsible for the other siblings after school. Three of them, Russell Collins, David Lopes, and Marcus Wright were very intense about feeding their brothers and sisters, about homework and about putting them to bed. He was sure none of them wanted the others on this team to know much about their home life. And two of the five, Juan Rodizio and Josh Peters were terrible make shift parents and just let the other siblings fend for themselves.

Josh had really disappointed him. He had lost both his parents to a single engine plane wreck and had been displaced along with his thirteen-year-old sister and his nine-year-old brother and as the oldest he should have stepped up when they landed in a new state, a new life, with their single aunt. But no Josh had not done drugs, and he’d gotten busted and caused more problems for his aunt. He wondered about calling child protective services, but who knew if being in foster care was better, and the aunt was the town's library director, but for now he’d stay out of it. The neglected kids were almost teens themselves, and if they’d survived the last year, who was he to judge?

Yeah, all these kids had their own problems, some were worse than others.

Eight of them worked after school, and unlike Nick, the other seven were not working to support their families. No, they worked to support their phones or their habits, be it drugs, cigarettes or alcohol.

Two of them had single mothers who worked long hours and let them figure out what to do with themselves, probably why they were in trouble. Three were being raised by their fathers only, eight lived with their grandmothers and other siblings. Six lived in a blended household with step parents and other steps.

Yes, his team was a melting pot of people, and he wasn't sure he was ready for this coaching job, but he’d try the job. But Felicity was proud of him right now and had stuffed his head full of facts he couldn't always match to the right kid.

And because she’d done that, he had an idea who would give him real problems, and who he would lay down the law to.

Yes, he’d checked his team out. He didn't like to go into any situation blind, when he could have an edge. And today, as he stood in the gym shadows, he wanted to get the feel of them as a group, to find their leader, see who they picked on, and to see if they had any chance of working together as a team, before he actually introduced himself.

Twenty young men in all shapes and sizes made up his team, some of them maybe could run. Several of them were going to struggle. Eight of them smoked cigarettes, a habit they were giving up if they wanted to breathe. A couple of them weren’t going to make it, but he’d make them play, still make them run. And all of them would, no doubt, hate him in the next few weeks, for he planned to run them into the ground, and he could out run each and every one of them.

As he watched, some of the teens sat the bleachers and some were nervous. They moved around, paced and the smokers probably wished they could smoke. Phil lay prone on the bleachers, his arm thrown over his eyes, probably passed out.

But most of them played on their phones. The phone an extension of their hands. It reminded him of Felicity, who was never far from her phone, and a slight smile lit his face. Okay, their phones were important to them. He could use their phones against them to make them run, to make them work, and to make them play.

The probation officer, Ned, entered the gym, and he noted the ones who came to attention, and the ones who didn't. Those would be the troublemakers, and he noted seven of the twenty who just plainly ignored the only authority figure in the room. Their body language said clearly, "Screw you."

Yes, I see you, he thought, as he ticked off their names in his head.

Scott, the rich kid with the nice car, walked in, playing on his phone, his attitude clear.

"You're late," Ned bit the words out.

"Super bee needed washed," Scott said with a shrug. His tone disrespectful.

"Sit down and shut your smart mouth, or I'll be watching you picking up trash, this Saturday, on the side of the road, starting before 7 a.m."

"It'd be better than playing soccer," said someone from the crowd, who got a laugh, and a small smile, even from him.

Oliver could see the chips were stacked against him here, as he pocketed her hair tie and pulled out his phone. Swiping the screen, he silently tapped his way to call Ned.

The probation officer answered his phone and Oliver hung up. But, as they had discussed, Ned told the group. "I've got to take this call. But I'll be back. Everyone stay put! And I mean it about trash detail this weekend, for anyone who wants to give me grief."

Ned hadn't shut the door when Lucas got up and said, in Spanish, "This is bullshit. Making us come to special meeting over the new coach. What’s his name?"

"English, dumb ass. I don't speak Spanish," Russell insisted.

Alonzo Garcia, big kid, weighing over 200, looked up from his phone. "You should learn, dumb ass. But since you're such a dumb ass, he asked what the new coach's name is."

"You can kiss my dumb ass, Alonzo. And I don't care what his name is?" Russell stood taller, the threat clear. "I'm just doing my time. I got an alert on my phone, and I showed up. But I hope he hurry's the hell up. I've got stuff to do."

Yeah, stuff like babysitting his siblings after school, and Russell needed to go home soon. Hmm, the babysitting thing was going to be problem for several of his team. He was going to have to come up with a solution for that problem, since practice was going to be at 3:15 p.m. sharp, Monday through Friday.

"Well the new coach's name is gay. Queen was what I heard," Alonzo said.

He’d never thought of his name as gay, and he didn't like anyone referring to his name like that.

"Who cares what his damn name is. I’m not playing fucking soccer." Josh Peters added his two cents.

Lucas said, "Oh, shut up Callie. Nobody cares what you think, surfer boy."

"Don't call me that."

"I’ll call you what I want. You're from California and it suits you, surfer boy."

Lucas reached to ruffle Josh's hair, and Josh pushed him away. "Don't touch me. Maybe, you're the one who's gay." Several of the teens laughed, and Josh clenched his fists and eyed Lucas.

And Oliver sighed and shook his head, as he recognized the anger in Josh, the black rage radiating off his tall blonde form, and he understood. Josh's last year had been hard. He had lost both parents and his entire life. Maybe he could help Josh and playing soccer could be an outlet for the teen and some of the other's rage. And yes, a lot of his team were very angry. Heaven help him, exercise helped keep his rage in check.

Adrian Herron added, "Well, we'll just see how long this one lasts. The last one quit didn’t did he? I can't believe that damn judge is going to make me do this shit. Soccer, who wants to play soccer? It's a stupid game. A total waste of my time. And practice is going to mess up my job the super center."

Stan Markton stood, all 5'6 of him. "Oh, quit whining, Adrian. You're a cart pusher at the super store. It's the super store, they'll change your schedule. The real problem here is that this guy is no Coach Webb. No, he's a big rich guy. And he's got a sexy, smoking hot, blonde on his arm. Now, I'd like to get in her panties." The gestures Stan made had the teens laughing and his blood boiling.

Yeah, Stan’s little act put him on Oliver's hit list. How dare they talk about HIS woman like that? Though Stan was right, Felicity was smoking hot, and if a man would have said that about her, he’d be beating him up right now.

But he forced himself to stay put, as they talked about HIS woman. He’d get that point across right off, the fact she was HIS woman, and they wouldn't be disrespecting her or any other woman. He'd run them to death if he caught them even thinking about touching her or insulting her. But he’d also ask Felicity to wear pants around these young men, so he wouldn't end up hurting one of them.

He remembered what it was like when you're were young, and another smile crept on his face, as he thought that was his life right now. They both were acting like a couple of horny teenagers. Oh, yes, he was ready to have her anytime, but unlike most of the teens in the gym, he had a great sex life, and Felicity loved to make out. He still didn't know how he had gotten this lucky, since he clearly didn't deserve her.

Head in the game, Oliver, get the job done.

"How would you know?" Josh demanded.

"Da? I bus tables at Anderson's Family Restaurant, and they have been in a couple of times. He tips good too. He's got a sweet convertible Porsche and bad ass motorcycle too. Not a Harley, but something else. It's got a funny name."

"Yea, they're renting the old Anderson place, and not but the week but by the month. He's got money." Scott interjected quietly. Without looking up from his phone, he added, "They were pasting through, until his girlfriend almost drowned and got sick. Makes sense now. Dr. Mae Franks was her Dr. who's married to Judge Franks, the very judge who sentenced us all to play this stupid game."

Well, it would seem Scott had done his recon on him too, and he didn't like Scott knowing where he lived and telling everyone else. Nor did he like the young man's disrespectful tone. He’d go back and reread Scott's file, but he was pretty sure, Scott mom worked in real estate.

Felicity had taken care of the house rental, and he would lay money on Scott's mom being their agent. Regardless, the house they were staying in was too open and would be hard to protect, he should set up better security. His team was far from happy they were being forced to play this game.

"Yeah, she's that stupid tourist who got in the riptide and drowned a couple months ago.", Oliver took in the big holes in his ears and ink on Jordan Sims’ arms. And he remembered this teen had abandoned his one-year old daughter, and he struggled to like anything about him and calling Felicity stupid wasn't helping, at the moment.

Nick Mitchell threw his hands up in the air. " We’re screwed.”

“Whatever, drama queen. We’ve got this.” Jordan checked his phone.

“Whatever. Don’t you get it. He's the huge guy with all the scars and has the abs from hell who saved her. Everyone was talking about him for weeks. How, he fought the riptide. How, strong he is. How he did CPR on her and got her breathing again. Yeah, I remember hearing about him now."

Russell Collins, he pocketed his phone and crossed his arms in front of his small chest. "He was big talk at the hospital, for weeks, and he pretty well lived there until she got well. And the guy’s tough, Special Forces or something. He's not going to go down easy, not like the last one."  

Several of them were nodding their heads, agreeing.

Juan Rodizio stood and pointed a finger at Russell. "Just because your mom works housekeeping at the hospital doesn't mean you know all about him. Your mom's a dumb crack head anyway."

"Fuck you. My mom ain't done crack in years. And you’d better watch your fucking mouth." Russell pushed Juan, who shoved him back, and Russell flew into Juan's face, Russell's hand fisted and his other hand had a handful of Juan's shirt. And although, both of the young men were pretty evenly matched, both of them about 5'7, Russell had the stance of a fighter, and Oliver had a feeling Russell would come out on top if they fought.

But, Tyler, the one with the pregnant girlfriend, Mindy, stepped between them, pushing them apart. "Fight on your own time. You two idiots are going to get us all in trouble. The man will be right back. And you two get me trash detail, and cost me my paycheck this Saturday, I'm going to stomp both of your asses. And I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Point for Tyler, and his voice of reason, and the two young men glared hard at each other, but they stepped back.

Tyler stared darkly at the group. "And yeah, it looks like we’re stuck with playing soccer, since I know the new coach, named Oliver Queen, took Jared frecking badass, high on meth, Reed out, with a coffee pot. A freaking coffee pot!”

“I heard that too.”

“Shut up Russell.”

“Fuck you.”

Tyler shook his head. “Shut up all of you. I’m telling you my cousin was in the ER when it happened. Jared coped the cop's gun and Queen took him out in nothing flat. My cousin said, after Queen jumped over a chair, he slammed Jared's head to the floor three times, and he stood up and straightened his jacket, like he was James fucking Bond or something. Just like in the movies,"

"Bull shit," said Juan.

"Not bull shit. Ask around, I'm telling you the guy’s Special Forces or something. I'm for not crossing him. I have three months' probation left, and I want to get it over with." The look he gave the crowd hard, he added. "And nobody better screw that up, cause I'm not going to jail for anyone. I'll kick the fucking ball. And the rest of you better suck it up too. The season isn't that long, and we’ll have this part of probation behind us."

Good choice, Tyler, thought Oliver. It looked like Tyler was their leader. He could work with that. And wow, the things these kids knew about him, about them, the next thing he’d hear was how Jeff had busted Felicity and he making out at the spot.

He sincerely hoped Jeff had kept that fact to himself, and he wondered what was with him and hoping lately? Hoping was a worthless waste of time, but lately he kept doing it.

"Okay, be a pussy. Me, I'm not listening to the dick. I don't care what kind of car he drives or how hot his girlfriend is." Jordan shook his head making his large disks in his ears jiggle and he thought, note to self, no one’s wearing jewelry when they practiced or played.

And he already marked Jordan as a troublemaker. The teen was a repeat offender, everything from running away to breaking and entering, truancy, resisting arrest, disorderly conduct, and three offenses of public drunk. Jordan was a piece of work at only sixteen. And he needed new shoes. He’d never be able to run in those shoes. Great another problem.

How many of them had running shoes? What about uniforms? He sighed.

And just think he’d volunteered for these problems.

"Na, they're getting married," Adrian said. "My aunt said the new coach brought his girlfriend one of the most expensive rings, the super center had. They picked it out together the other night. I’d say they're engaged now."

He smiled again, realizing they didn't know what expensive was. But the memory of her refusing his grandmother's ring still hurt. Yet, he needed to work on listening to her more and to stop making decisions for both of them. If she thought the ring was too much for her he needed to get over it. He’d overnighted the ring back to Thea to put back in the vault. Felicity had agreed to wear it for special occasions to honor his grandparents' love. He liked that idea.

And, it was fitting they’d picked out her ring together, a new ring for the two of them starting a new life, and a new love together.

He smiled slightly thinking his love for her wasn't new at all. She’d amused him from the first time he laid eyes on her, and he’d loved her for a long time, and now she was his. And he loved that the gossips said she belonged officially to him.

"Enough." Scott lifted his head from his phone, "For now, go to fucking practice and in a little bit, I'll get rid of him, like I did the other one. Fuck them all. I'm not playing soccer. I've got better things to do. And like Tyler said, the season's not that long, and they’ll never find a replacement who’ll stay. I'll make sure of it. Now shut the fuck up, here comes the man."

Awe, there he was, their leader. He’d had preferred it be Tyler but he’d deal with Scott, even if he didn’t like him. But now Tyler, maybe he could work with him. Tyler had told the team to suck it up. And Adrian, maybe that kid wasn't that bad after all, since he was the first one to call him "coach" without making the name sound like an ugly four letter word.

And first practice was tomorrow.

Well wasn’t that great.

#####OQ#####

Returning home to an empty house, he knew Felicity worked at the hospital today. He dropped his keys and his phone on the table, grabbed an green apple and picked up his team's files. Stepping out on the porch, he sat down in the lounge chair and starting hunting Adrian's file, while listening to the sound of the gulf.

Picking up the thick fold, he read Adrian Michael Herron.

The apple escaped his hand and fell with a thud and rolled away as his mind refused to focus.

Hands pulled at him, dragging him out of the small cage. Hedeon's voice came and went. He hadn't cut him yet, but today he was going to pass out before the blade ever touched his punished, now mangled, rotting, flesh. His chest infected now, he was burning up with fever and barely managing to stay conscious.

Something strong was passed under his nose, waking him. And he could smell the blood, which meant Hedeon had cut him, and he’d blissfully missed it. Two men held him up right, since he’d lost the ability to hold himself up. Defeated, he was sure he was going to die down here underground, and he couldn't even go down fighting, not unless he wanted to end up back in the cage.

No, he couldn't do the cage, he couldn't go back into the small cage, even now his muscles were seizing up, his muscles cramping, screaming, and he wasn't unsure if he could make them attack. The cage had restricted his body from stretching for out, limited him from moving almost completely for too many days and he wasn't sure if his body would obey him, so he didn’t dare  reach for Hedeon's throat or he’d be back in the cage.

"There that's better. Can't have you missing the fun. Scream for me, Oliver."

And Hedeon stabbed him in the chest, pierced his poor abused flesh and twisted the sharp blade. He screamed for him, couldn't hold back the screams anymore.

He deserved this treatment for torturing General Shrieve and was getting his just reward.

His brain started shutting down. Time became surreal. Someone screamed.

Jesus, it was him, roaring, screaming, in intense pain. He had to stop this.

Hedeon stabbed his chest, and he threw his body forward, and the man gasped and pulled back. "Fool, you'll make me nick your lung."

He rallied what little strength he had left. "Good and this will be over. I'll drown in my own blood. Stab me again! Finish this!"

Hedeon hesitated, eying him while he fingered the knife. Oliver met the man’s eyes, his back and front bloody red, his pants soaked in his own blood. The black rage flowed black through him. "I dare you. I'm bleeding out, away. Do it. Finish it. I'll help you."

Turning, the man picked something up from a table in the shadows and came back. "I’ve never has a man lunged toward the blade. Hmm."

And he threw pure liquid fire on his bleeding chest. “Grrr, damn you. What was that? Acid?”

"It’s alcohol, Oliver. Your chest’s infected. And if you die, you'll cheat me out of the money I paid for you." He moved in close and grabbed him by his hair, leaning in to speak into his ear. "And you're still going to fight for me, aren't you? Say the words. I want to hear them. You're going to fight for me. You’re going to win for me."

He barely remained on his knees and if wasn't for the two men holding him upright, he’d be prone on the floor. Cold numbed him now, pushing away the heat of the fever, and he shook, trembled. The cold had his teeth chattering, as he used his hands to hold on to the men, to stay somewhat upright.

The room tilted, and he realized the alcohol must have sent him straight into shock.

“Say it, Oliver.”

"I'm going to fight for you." And he looked the man straight in his gray eyes, as he vowed. "And I'm going to KILL YOU, and I'll be quick next time. Kill me now. It’ll save your life."

Hedeon laughed a great belly laugh. "Threaten to kill me. That's rich. I knew you were smart but you keep surprising me. You're trying to get me to put you out of your misery. Hmm . . . Tempting, but no, not this time. I have plans for you."

He ran the blade across his chest sharply one last time. "Clean him up. Tell Michael, twelve stitches for the chest wound and make them small. I want them hard to take out. And keep him awake. He needs to experience this, not sleep through it, and if he dies, you'll all take his place."

Reaching out, Hedeon grabbed his hair again. "Oliver, you're a first, in a class of your own. Normally after a couple of days in the cage, men break. But you begged me to cut you, and then you attack me. You’ve survived the curare with grace and three more days in the cage and you’ve repeatedly threatened to kill me. Yes, you’re a breath of fresh air. You and I will be spending a lot of quality time together.”

And the man turned and walked away.

He couldn't hold his head up, but he spat the words, "It's a promise. I’m going to kill you, Hedeon."

And the floor rushed up to greet him.

#####OQ#####

"Do you know your blood type?" A man demanded of him.

"O," he managed to say though he was almost unconscious.

"Crap, it figures. He's bleeding out, and I don't have a match. Isn't that my shit luck?"

"It’s okay. Let me die."

"Drink, you're dehydrated. No, stay awake. Drink."

He knocked the cup out of the man's hand, and spit the water out repeatedly. But the man kept pouring it down him.

“Damn you. I’ll drown you if I have to. Now drink.”

Waking to extreme pain and an IV in his arm, he reached and jerked it out.

"No, damn it. Get him," the man yelled, waking him up. "Oh, hell, he's yanked his damn IV out, and it was hard enough to put it as dehydrated, as he is. This one has a fucking death wish."

With smelling salts, through most of the stitches, the men kept him awake and he begged them. "Let me die."

Agony, he was in pure, hateful total pain, excruciating agony. He had a huge dragon shredding his chest, clawing him with sharp talons, as it sat heavily, breathing liquid fire into his chest. Vaguely, he knew his back hurt, but his chest was a ball of pure, aching, total raging, fire.

He was done living.

What did he have to live for?

His father's book was back on the island, along with Laurel's picture, and he was in hell and his throbbing chest living proof of it.

"Kill me," he begged them as he fought them and it took more hands then he could count to put him down, to hold him down.

"No, more. Stop, trying to help me! Let me bleed out."

The man's familiar voice ordered, "Grab him, hold him down. He's ripping his damn stitches out. Jesus, he's strong, for what he’s gone through. Hold him down."

"God, he stinks."

"Well, of course, he stinks. He's spent five total days in the cage. How long did you make it?"

Another voice said with disgust, "Barely, one? Come on, help me strip him."

But, no, they wouldn't let him die or sleep. They kept waking him up, no matter how much he fought them.

"Hell, he's pulled his IV out again. Get his arms, someone go get me some rope. He's opening his stitches up again. Damn it, Ivan, don't just stand there, come and help me. Restrain him. Get his other arm. Stop him."

The hands confined him, and he was too weak to fight them off.

"Want me to wake him up, again?"

"Hell, no, I've got to re-stitch his mess of a chest, as it is. Let him be."

"But Hedeon said to keep him awake."

"I don't care what Hedeon said right now. Don't tell him. He’s going to bleed out if we keep him awake. NOW, get his arm, he's trying to take out his stitches, again. Damn it, restrain him. Watch it, now he's after the IV."

And he slipped back into the dark world of blackness and nightmares, and Hedeon and his knife lived there now too.

One of the same faces kept reappearing when he would surface from the terror that was his sleep. A man he’d seen before, but it was too hard to think because his chest was an inferno, a firestorm of pain. After a time, he realized it was the man who had come to him when he was in the cage, the man who’d warned him.

A warning he hadn't heeded.

"Damn you," he said returning to consciousness, and the same man was trying to get him to take a pill, fighting him, as he spit the pill out.

"I'm already damned. Stop fighting me. Do you want him to cut me? Take the damn pill."

"NO."

He turned his head and tested the ropes binding him to the bed.

"NO, to what? Him not cutting me or no to the pill? Come on, help me here. Hedeon’s sent antibiotics for you. Your chest’s infected, and he wants you to live."

"He's the only one."

His voice lowered. "Oliver, why’d you fight him? I went to all that trouble. I endangered myself to warn you and you don't listen. Didn't I tell you not to fight him? The men told me that you didn't scream when he cut your back right out of the cage. Not screaming makes him hurt you worse. And you threatened to kill him and you attacked him, and what did it get you?"

"Nowhere but here."

"That's not true. Fighting him got you a round with the curare, and three more days in the cage. Well great job, he’s made a genuine mess out of your chest and it's infected. And I don't know if you’ve noticed, but this isn't a damn hospital and there aren’t any pain killers here. You're lucky to have antibiotics, so take pill, or do I have to call for help and shove it down your stupid throat again."

"I'm going to kill you later too."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you won't let me die."

The man laughed, a small sharp laugh as he shook his head. "Okay, you do that. I've been tired of living for a long time. But you have to get well first. Now take the damn pill."

And it was the same man. The man, who’d tied his hands tied when he was out of his mind with fever. The same man who had them hold him down when his fever spiked and the infection raged in his chest, and he become strong enough to break the ropes. It was the same man, who hollered for help when they had to fight him again, as he ripped at his stitches and the IV, trying to end his life.

It was this man who cleaned his wounds and made him scream. He also the man, who forced him to drink water, forced him to take the pills and forced him to sip the broth because he’d been too weak to do anything else but what the man wanted.

And he cleaned him up, and mopped his forehead and his body as the fever raged. And the man he ranted to about the island, about Laurel and Sara, about the boat and Shado and Slade, and China, and he was the man who stayed with him until he could think again.

Weak, he couldn’t find the strength to lift his head, when he finally came back from the fever.

"Be still, your chest is still bleeding," The man was sitting beside him, playing with a piece of string with his hands.

"How long?"

His throat scratching and dry. His hands were tied at the wrists to the bed frame. Trying to move, he found his legs were also restrained. And he’d fought them, repeatedly.

"Six days."

"Cool. I guess I didn't die this time."

"It wasn't for lack of trying on your part. And from what you said while you had fever it’s not the first time.” The man reached for a cup from the side table. “Here drink."

"Well, if you’d stop helping me, I could still die this time. Life sucks you know?"

The man lifted his head for him and helped him take a sip of water. "Oh, I know but too late, you're getting better. And I can't stop helping you, or Hedeon will cut me instead. You may not remember, but this is ground we’ve covered, repeatedly."

"Please, you’re not helping me by keeping me alive for him to carve on."

"Shh, you need to rest. And since you don't remember, I'll tell you again. If you die, he'll cut me, instead of you. And he'll make me fight, and I suck at it, so I'll get beat up too. And I don't like getting beat up, and I don't like him cutting me. Been there done that, so, like it or not, you're going to survive this. Now, drink and take the pill."

"I don't want to." Even to his own ears, he sounded like a spoiled child.

"I don't care, take the pill or I’ll get help and, again, you may not remember, but we WILL shove it down your stupid throat because he has cut every one of us. And yes, I know, it sucks to be you."

With his wrists and legs tied, and still weak enough he couldn't lift his head, he did what the man wanted.

Right before, he passed out.

Opening his eyes, he found Hedeon leaned over him smiling.

Inwardly, he cringed.

"I heard you were awake. You are the survivor aren't you? I thought sure you'd die." Hedeon ripped the bandage from his chest and he yelped, and sucked air in. His tormentor inspected his gory handiwork.

Pure hatred for this man radiated out of him, black rage, pure bitterness choked him, filled him, as he glared up at the man and got his first good look at his chest, at the puckered, red hot flesh that the man, who wanted him to live, had stitched jaggedly together in large black stitches over his rib cage. He wished for strength, but it was all he could do to lay here and take painful breaths, while his heart raced. As he lay helpless, waiting for Hedeon to hurt him again.

He didn't know if he could scream for him this time. No, he didn't think he had the energy, but he couldn't stop the words, "You're a dead man for what you’ve done to my chest and my back."

Hedeon chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Again with your threats?"

"Not threats. Promises."

And Hedeon laughed outright.

But the man, who wouldn't let him die, walked up beside the bed. "Ignore him. He's still running fever, probably out of his head," And the look the man gave him told him, he clearly thought he was.

“I heard he’s better.”

"Yeah, he's turned the corner, though; I'm still trying to get his chest wound to close up. Maybe you should leave him alone for now."

Hedeon narrowed his eyes. "I'll do what I want, and I specifically told you small stitches." The man fingered his knife, and Oliver shuttered knowing Hedeon wanted to open him up again, and he struggled to keep his express blank, to not show his mounting fear or his complete rage.

Testing the ropes that held him to the bed, he found his strength sadly lacking.

Yes, he lay helpless, tied to the bed, and there was nothing he could do to stop Hedeon if he cut him.

Why did this kind of thing keep happening to him?

And a voice in his head assured him, “You deserve it. Evil begets evil.”

"Well, you left me a pretty large hole to work with, which made it impossible to use small stitches and still close up the gapping hole. Besides now the wound's infected and oozing.”

“It doesn’t look that bad to me.” The man touched the knife to his chest and searing pain shot through him and he clamped his teeth together.

 “He’ll die if you do it. The dead ones don't scream very loud you know."

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you," Hedeon tone sinister tone, as he pulled the back and returned to running his finger across the blade, frowning down at him.

He wanted to break his bonds and snap Hedeon's neck. And he bet Hedeon wouldn't be here without guards, if he wasn't this weak and tied to the bed. But in the shape he was all it would take is one more touch to his chest wound and the fight would be over. And he would get to find out if he could scream again, but still he challenged him, hoped he would finish him. "Go ahead and bring it. Do your worst."

"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's saying."

The man's sweet smile sickened him.

"Oh, I think Oliver knows exactly what he's saying. You're trying to get me to kill you aren't you? Did you know he leaned into the knife, trying to deflate a lung, and bragged he’d drown in his own blood?"

"I'll do it too." And he tested the ropes.

"Don't listen to him. He's still pretty much in and out most of the time running fever, and I don't think, even you could keep him conscious, if you go at him again. He probably wouldn't know you were cutting him. And where's the fun in that?"

Hedeon turned away from him and pointed his knife. "Michael, you're pushing your luck. Maybe I've let you live a little too long? Or maybe, you'd like to take his place?"

The man shrugged. "I'm ready if you are. But remember your new toy’s going to die too, since I won't be around to keep him alive. And I can tell you're aching for another go at him."

Hedeon frowned deeply. "That mouth of yours is going to cost you someday, Michael."

"If that's what it takes, I'm ready. Been ready for years."

Holding his breath, he waited for Hedeon to take the man out, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the man turned and walked toward the door. "Get him up and moving. I want him in the ring within the month."

"He needs more antibiotics. I've given him the pills you sent, and his chest’s still infected. And it will take at least six weeks to get him fight ready, if you let him heal."

"You've got four, figure it out. And you're lucky he got the first round of antibiotics. I mean it. This is one’s on you. You'll take his place both in the ring and out, if you don't get him up and moving and ready to fight."

"And I mean it about the antibiotics. His chest’s infected. You know they die from that, so ignore it and cost yourself money. You do remember how well I fight?"

Hedeon shook his head and threw the words over his shoulder as he quit the room. "Alright, I'll send another round for him, but you get him up. Get him ready to fight."

"You have a death wish?" The man turned on him, demanding.

"Yeah, I do! But thanks for telling him I wouldn't know he was cutting me, I don't think I could have handled it."

"You're welcome. Now look he likes watching your pain. So, damn it, stop daring him. You're a new toy, and he’s going to kill you outright, not just cut you if you keep it up."

"Only if I'm lucky."

The man began to re-bandage his chest.

"Michael's your name?" Oliver asked quietly.

"Only he calls me Michael. He used to call me his Michelangelo when he cut me. Men here call me, Mike, though, it's not my birth name.”

“What’s your real name?”

Mike smoothed the bandage and took his time. “That name doesn't matter anymore, hasn't for years."

Oliver heard resignation in Mike’s flat voice and worried that someday this would be him, that this would be his future, his chest and back looking like Mike's, and he’d never escape this place.

And the thought terrified him.

"How long have you been trapped here?"

"Five years, I think. A very long time, and longer than anyone else. He owns me too, just like you, but I'm an old toy. My body's pretty well used up. He’d have bled me out a long time ago, if I wasn't good at what I do."

Oliver tried to catch his brown eyes, tried to connect with the man that had fought him tooth and nail to keep him alive. "What do you do?"

"This." He smoothed the tape down.

His brown eyes locked with his, Mike’s look solid. "I keep his new toys, his canvas alive." The man looked him hard in the eye. "For as long as possible. And Oliver, I'm lucky that he doesn't play with me very often anymore."

"But he cuts you when they die doesn't he?"

Mike sighed, and added another piece of tape to his wound. "You're the one with the problem right now. You're the new toy with lots of places to cut on that chest and your broad back. And the only reason he didn't cut you today was that he doesn't want you to die, and I convinced him you would. And he’s killed enough of them he understands dead toy aren’t much fun."

"He bleeds them out?"

Mike looked away, as though he was seeing into a window. "Yes, he doesn't stop sometimes, he keeps cutting. And no one will stop him, he owns all of us, and pays the others well to look the other way. But dead people don't scream, so you walk very carefully, Oliver. He likes your spirit, so STOP showing it to him, stop defying him. He wants you to defy him."

"I’m going to kill him."

"Stop saying that."

"NO. I am."

"Oliver, he liked that you could hold back the screams for a while. Hedeon loved that you leaned into the knife. But you scared him. He wants it to be his choice when he kills you. He doesn't like that you could take that decision from him."

Mike finished smoothing his bandage.

"And he has never come to see anyone he’s cut up. You're the first, and he's itching for another go at you, which is bad for you. He'll carve on you again, trust me. We need to stock up some your blood."

"My blood?"

"Yeah, you're type O. You're rare. The only one here. And, I know from experience, before this is over, you'll need a transfusion. He calls my chest, by back, his work of art. Get it, I'm his Michelangelo, his master piece."

He stood again and stripped off his shirt and showed him his marks, the road map of scars and his large thick H on his left shoulder. "Look, Oliver, really look at me.”

“That must have taken him years.”

 “Yeah, he cut me a lot and this is your future and I'm lucky. I'm type A positive. I'm the type that's everywhere. But you're O."

He nodded his head. "That's' a bad type to have here. We are in the middle of nowhere. And Hedeon is the lord, the law, here. And, I hope you can fight cause he’s going to hurt you bad when you lose."

"I’m not going to lose."

"You can't win forever, and he’ll cheat. Watch out, he’ll play you. He’ll make sure you lose, so he can carve on you again. Beware, Oliver, he’ll make sure of it."

"I’m going to make him finish me. I can't live like this."

"That's just it, Oliver. You're not going to live, it's just a matter of how long I can keep you alive. He's killed everyone I've ever helped. Everyone but me."

Jerking back to awareness, his blood rushed in his ears, he couldn't hear the gulf only his heart pounding, as his sweaty hand reached expecting to find blood on his chest, expecting to find blood on his back. The H throbbed on his back and the intense ache in his chest made him cry out. He was gasping, suffocating, his heart racing, his chest tight and for a moment he wasn't sure if he was going to pass out or not.

Imaginary metal bands squeezed his chest. He stood, but his body weight overwhelmed his legs and they folded under him, and he fell back into the chair. The files lay open, scattered in disarray on the porch. His heart pounded wildly, as his eyes swept the parking lot, next to the house.

Felicity pulled into the drive way and opened the car door and looked up at him, smiling. And everything he was feeling intensified knowing he couldn’t  cover. He couldn't breathe, his breath came in short gasps. Oh, his chest hurt.

"Oliver? How did your team meeting go?” She ran toward him. “What’s wrong?"

"Can't breathe. My chest . . . dizzy. . . I feel. . ."

"OLIVER!"

He passed smooth out.

#####OQ#####

He woke up to screaming sirens in an ambulance. And he came up fighting them.

"Sir, calm down, we're trying to help you. You're having a problem with your blood pressure and possibility a heart attack. "

Hands pushing him down. His mind wasn't working right. Oh, yeah, he’d fallen out on the on the porch.

“His blood pressure’s still 180/132. You’d better put your foot in it.”

"Felicity? Where’s Felicity?" The man was trying to put an IV in his arm and he grabbed his hand.

"Easy. I’m trying to help you, Mr. Queen. Please let me go and I’ll get this in your arm.”

“Don’t call me that. And I’d want that in my arm. Now let me up. I’m fine.”

 "Okay, Oliver, does your chest hurt? Come on work with me here and let me go so I can help you.”

“No IV.”

“Okay, no IV. But I need you to understand your bodies in distress and we’re trying to help you.”

He released the man.

“I want you to think. Does your chest hurt?"

"Yes."

"Head ache?"

"Yes."

"Vision blurry?"

"Maybe."

"Have you taken any nonprescription or recreational drugs today?"

"No, I haven't taken any drugs. Where’s Felicity?" “Oliver, do you have any pain in your left arm?”

“No. I . . .” But a wave of pain rolled through him and he clutched his chest, as it tightened and ached. No this couldn't be happening to him. He was only thirty. He couldn't be having a heart attack.

“Tell them we're coming hot in with a hypertensive emergency. Possible heart attack. Yes, we’re in route. Two minutes ETA. Have a team and a crash cart ready."

#####OQ#####

Reviews? Did anyone catch the trigger?

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

And a shout out to PersianArrow!!

#####OQ#####

"Mr. Queen, does your left arm hurt?"

"No, my chest. Can't breathe."

The EMT's rushed him on a stretcher into a small room, with curtains and glass doors and way too many people in one small space. So many people. Too many people.

He needed to throw up as his heart pounded in his chest.

A crush of people moved at once and his head pounded. Fighting the urge to vomit, he felt like he was passing out drunk, while the room moved way too fast.

His brain refused to engage, and he had major problems thinking, problems staying here.

Please, let him stay here. He used all his control to stay here but found he was in danger of losing control of the situation.

Everything moved from too fast to slow motion, as the room became fuzzy, and he fought his stomach dropped like a he had plunged on a roller coaster.

He’d lost control of the situation and it overpowered him, sickened him.

"He's big. A little help here. On three. One, two, three." And four of them had moved him onto the bed.

"Wait."

He thought he said, but all he could think was darn it, Felicity, why did you have to come home early? By now, he would have been awake and recovered, and she would have never known, let alone called 911.

And he wouldn't be in this situation.

Oh, why did she have to call 911?

You would think she would know better after all they had been through.

"Let's move. Lisa, get some blood drawn. The rest of you get him on oxygen, get his shirt off and get the leads on."

Too many hands reached for him at once, hands that seemed everywhere, and he couldn't control anything.

His heart pounded, and his breath came in small gasps.

A nurse tried to put oxygen on his nose. Another nurse had his arm, coming at him with a needle, when he abruptly realized that another nurse was holding scissors and was reaching to cut his shirt off and his survival mode immediately kicked in.

"NO! STOP!" His hand caught the woman's wrist just before her scissors reached his shirt. No way he was taking his shirt off in front of this many people.

His team already knew way too much about him. He’d be damned if he’d let all these people see his chest and back.

“Stop.” He pushed the other woman, the one who had hold of his arm coming at him with a needle, smoothly away from him. He was not trying to hurt her, but he shoved her away from him. Then he released the woman with the scissors, and he pushed the oxygen away too and sat straight up, trying to ignore his tight chest.

"Step away from me! Don't touch me. I don’t want to hurt anyone."

The EMT beside him chose that moment to move, and he pushed them all away from him, roaring, "Just don't touch me. Back off. Don't come any closer."

His voice was pure Arrow, dark and deep. And he really meant his words. Touching him right now was not a good idea.

No, it was a terrible idea and he was going to definitely going to hurt someone if they keep coming at him.

"Mr. Queen, you need to calm down. We are only trying to help you here," said a man, wearing a white coat.

Okay, this man was a doctor, but he still needed to step back from him.

"Just don't touch me. It is too many hands. You don't understand. I don't feel well and you all need to back away from me. I mean it. I don’t want to hurt anyone."

Damn, his chest hurt, tightening like a vise as his head pounded. He knew they were trying to help, but he couldn't let them take his shirt off. He was going to lose control and it was too small of a town. Too many people would know what his chest looked like if they took his shirt off.

No matter what he had to keep his shirt on.

What was he going to do? He couldn't fight them. And none of them needed to know that he could be out of control, so he couldn't attack them. No, he couldn't let them take his shirt off in front of all these people, and he couldn't attack them.

What the hell was he going to do?

"Back away from me now, and don't touch me." He threw the pillow off the bed at them, but they still kept coming at him, kept moving.

"Look, I’m hyperventilating. I’m getting too much oxygen and that’s what’s wrong with me. So stop trying to touch me."

More carbon dioxide, he need more, so he held his breath, but still his anxiety rose. He knew they were trying to help him, but it was all he could do not to really make them stop, as they tried to reason with him and just kept trying to touch him.

Too many hands, he had to escape them, so quickly he rolled off the bed. Panting, he shoved the bed between him and them, as he quickly protected himself from them by putting his back against the wall, but they stilled tried to reason with him.

"Calm down, Mr. Queen. We’re trying to help you here. You’re having some type of high blood pressure problem. It could be a heart attack."

“I’m . . . fine. Stay away from me.”

And he knew if they kept it up, he would fight them and there would be no way to stop himself if they kept coming. His heart raced, his breath came in gasps. His mind wanted to wander to the past, and he had to force himself to focus on now.

"Where’s Felicity? I need Felicity." If there was time he needed her with him, it was right now.

"Mr. Queen, I don't know who you’re talking about, but I'm sure she will be here soon. Right now, I want you to calm down and let us treat you. We’re trying to help you. Now I need you to get back into the bed," said the doctor.

A nurse moved and he yelled, "Stop. Don't move! Please everyone be still."

But they weren't listening to him. The EMT that rode with him in the ambulance held his palms up. "Mr. Queen. Oliver, look at me. You're confused because your blood pressure is too high. We are trying to help you." But the man moved toward him, tried to get between the wall and the bed and the EMT reached to grab his arm, and he pushed the man back, causing the man almost to fall and the IV stand to hit the floor with a loud crash.

"Stay back, I don't want to hurt you. Don't touch me. I can't focus right now."

"It's going to be okay. You need to calm down," said the other EMT, who held his hands up, palms showing, trying to make him think he wasn't a threat, yet, he took a step toward him, which he took as a real threat.

"Mr. Queen, were just trying to help you, to treat you. You need to calm down, before you have a stroke or worse," said the doctor.

The entire situation overwhelmed him. Where was Felicity when he needed her?

"I mean it back off." He held his hand out, hoping that would stop them, while his other hand clutched his too tight chest. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Please there are just too many hands on me, touching me at once. I’m going to hurt someone."

The EMT said, "Oliver, you need to calm down and let us help you. Come on, your blood pressure’s too high, you could be having a heart attack. I know your chest hurts. Let us help you."

But the man moved and unable to help himself, he pushed the man back away from him, knocking him over the crash cart and both the cart and the man went down with a loud bang and a thud.

One of the nurses screamed, and a solid female voice said, "Oh hush, Lisa. Go and find me a paper bag. And the rest of you back away from him. Oliver, would you kindly get back in the bed, so I can see if you’re arresting or just hyperventilating."

And he’d never been so grateful to see Mae in his entire life.

"I'm hyperventilating." He gasped his words now.

"Well, since you've told me that you aren't a doctor, then if you don't mind, I'll decide that after I look at your EKG and your blood work."

"Well you need to hurry because I'm not staying here."

"I got this, Mae," said the doctor, with the white coat.

"Roger, I think you're going to get it if you keep trying to touch him. This man’s a vet and is showing clear PTSD symptoms, so let's clear the room people. Thanks, Joe and Wayne, for bringing him in quickly, but you can go now. Right now, the fewer people in this room, the calmer he'll be. Now move."

As he watched, the EMTs left the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief, since they were the biggest threat and the ones he was most likely to hurt. But how dare Mae say he was exhibiting PTSD symptoms? Out loud no less.

"Mae, I'm the heart specialist here. He's my patient."

"I know that but forgive me, I'm taking him. And I know all of you are trying to help him, but Oliver and I have a lot of history. His girlfriend spent three weeks here. And he’s the one who stopped the kid with the gun in the ER and saved my life. But right now, I don't know what he will do if you keep rushing him."

Mae looked at him and he grimaced, the pain in his chest intensifying, as she added, "I don't think he even knows what he’ll do if we keep pushing him. Now we are all going to give him some room to calm down. Oliver, you don't look good. Get back in the bed."

He wrapped both arms about his chest to control the pain. Why was the room blurry?

"Megan, get me a gurney. We are moving him right now to critical care, his blood pressure is probably still off the charts. And then tell CCU we're coming. Get me a bed right now."

She then said, "Oliver, yes, you're right you’re probably hyperventilating, and yes, your blood is probably too oxygen rich, which could be what's causing your chest pains. Now, I want you to hold your breath for like ten to fifteen seconds for three or four times in a row. You need more carbon dioxide and that will help."

"I have been doing that it and it’s not helping." He managed to say.

"Well, keep it up and I mean it get back in the bed. Lisa, where is that bag?" She yelled out the door. "Go on," she pointed at another nurse, "Go find her and maybe by the time you do, he will be calm enough Lisa can draw his blood."

The nurse rushed out the door, and he crawled back in the bed and repeatedly held his breath, while clutching his chest.

"They don't recommend the paper bag anymore," said Roger, smugly.

"I don't care what they recommend. It works and it works quickly."

Then Mae said, "Emily, go right now and find Felicity Smoak, lovely blonde with a ponytail, wears glasses. You know who I'm talking about. Find her now. She’s probably in admissions. And I don't care if they are done with her or not. Have her meet us in CCU, stat."

He nodded, yes, find Felicity, he thought. If there was ever a time he needed her, it was now.

Lisa returned with the paper bag, and he could see that the woman's hand trembled, as she handed it to him. He understood he'd frightened her. Thank goodness, Mae had shown up before he’d hurt any of them.

Mae said, "Breathe into the bag, Oliver. Were you having a flashback before you fell out?"

"I don't know."

And he was telling the truth. He just didn't remember. He had been reading Adrian's file and then he had been holding his chest, looking at Felicity and feeling strange before he'd passed out.

What had happened in between? Where had he been? He had just zoned out and it had happened before, many times before.

And he hated it.

"Oliver, Lisa is going to draw your blood. I need to see if you did have a heart attack and check your blood levels."

He nodded and held out his arm to let the young woman take his blood. The woman's hands trembled, as she took his blood, but she was quick and efficient. His chest pain was easing, so he was feeling some better.

When she was finished, Mae pulled out her stethoscope and ask him, "Oliver, how you feel?"

He winced in pain, before he said, "I have a really bad headache. My vision is off and my chest hurts. And I keep thinking I am going throw up. And, Mae, if you want to listen to my heart it will be through my shirt."

Mae placed a trashcan by the bed, then said, "How about I start with your blood pressure?"

He nodded his head.

"Mae, really this is my patient," said Roger.

"You're still here? Thanks, Roger but sorry, not anymore."

"Mae, your specialty is drowning."

"Well today, it's high blood pressure and hyperventilating. Oliver, choose who do you want to treat you? Him or me?"

No one, he thought, but he said, "You, Mae."

"Shut the door on your way out, Roger."

And yes, he'd been hyperventilating. He could remove the bag now. And this wasn't the first time, but this was the worst, he thought. And he bit his lip, upset with himself. The fury was rising. The darkness was beckoning so black inside him.

"Mae, I'm sorry for the trouble. I don't want treated. I'll be okay in a little bit."

How could he let this happen? The last place he wanted to be was here.

But he felt bad.

"Calm down, Oliver. If you don't calm down you're going to have another attack. Damn, you're still 186/132. Sometimes, I hate being right." Then she listened to his heart, through his shirt.

The nurse arrived with a gurney.

"Oliver, get on the gurney. You’re headed upstairs. I have to get your blood pressure down."

"I don't need a gurney. I could walk. And I really don't want treated, Mae. No, I want to go home. If you will just find Felicity she can take me home."

"I don't think that is going to happen, Oliver. Your blood pressure is too high, and I don't know if you'll live if you leave. And Felicity would be really upset with me if I let you die."

She pulled a syringe from her pocket, as she said, "And I came prepared. Felicity warned me, during our 911 call that you're not always friendly when you wake up."

"You took her 911 call?"

His chances of talking Felicity into taking him home were evaporating. She was going to livid with him, he could see it coming.

"Of course, I did. Now since you're a huge fall risk right now, you will get on the gurney. Or I'll knock you out and you will still end up in CCU. Your choice. Awake or sleep. Or you going to fight an old woman?"

Knowing he couldn't fight Mae or what Felicity had told her, he climbed out the bed and onto the gurney, still hugging his chest.

"Good choice, Oliver," Mae said as the nurse, Megan, pushed him down the hall.

"Like I had one."

Quickly, she had pushed him into a large elevator, and they were headed upstairs.

Why wasn't he getting better? He should be better by now. But he felt like he was getting worse, and his mind was still cluttered, fuzzy.

He shut his eyes against the intense pain in his head, in his chest and by the time, he opened them again, they were moving through the doors of the critical care unit.

A place he could have went the rest of his life without ever seeing again. His hands grabbed the bars of the gurney in an attempt to steady himself.

Mae said, "Try to calm down, Oliver. This is just a precaution, nothing more. Stop thinking the worst."

Quickly, they got him in another room, and he managed to get in the bed. He was tired suddenly and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

"Oliver, you need an IV started, so I can start you on intravenous blood pressure medication. I have to get your numbers down or you are going to have organ damage. I'm going to look at your eyes. Okay?"

He nodded and she shined a small flashlight in his eyes.

"Your eyes still look good, no bleeding in the retinas, but unless you want to lose your sight you're going to let me put an IV in your arm. Can Betty put an IV in your arm, Oliver?"

"Where's Felicity? Why isn't she here? I can't think." He was starting to panic again, and Mae was talking to him.

"She's coming. I've sent for her. Just stay with me, Oliver. Let us get an IV started. I want you to breathe slower. Concentrate on taking longer breathes. Do you know how to meditate?"

"Yes." But he was struggling to hold on to now. He needed control right now.

In through his nose and out through his nose.

"You're going to feel a slight prick now," said the nurse.

"My eyes are blurry. Why can't I see right? Why isn't Felicity here? Wait, no IV. I don't want an IV." And he wretched away from the nurse. But he wasn't seeing the nurse, no.

"Grab him. Hold him. Crap. I blew his vein. Mae, his nose is bleeding."

"Get that IV in now. Oliver? Listen to me. Focus on your breathing. Oliver, I need to take your shirt off."

He could smell the blood, his blood. "NO! Stop touching me."

"Back away from him, everyone. Megan, hurry and get me some ice."

Mae's voice was getting further away and his chest was getting increasingly tighter, his breath shorter. He was feeling like he was stepping away from himself, from the room.

He was slipping away. "No, IV," he said sitting up, and he was no longer seeing the hospital room. He was pushing the men's hands back, yelling, "NO! Stop helping me."

"Oliver, hold this ice for me. And tip your head back. Your nose is bleeding."

Something cold was in his hand, and he opened his blurry eyes. Mae was shining a flashlight in his eyes again, and he was back in the hospital room, head pounding, chest hurting, and nose bleeding.

"It's cold."

"Yes, ice is. And it will help you stay here, not where ever you were headed a second ago. Ice will ground you to now. I learned a lot about PTSD after my son died, Oliver. And I can't help him, but I can still help you, so you be still, so she can get that IV in. I've got to get your blood pressure down."

######OQ######

"Felicity Smoak?" Asked a small dark headed woman, wearing pink scrubs with teddy bears, and who was now standing beside her.

"Mr. Queen's birthday?" Asked the women, who was admitting Oliver.

"May 16th, 1985, and yes, I'm Felicity Smoak." She looked up at the woman.

"Social security number?"

"I know it, but since I've seen the inside of your computer system's firewall, and haven't had the time to write you a new one, there is no way would I give it to you. I might as well just post it to Facebook."

"Ms. Smoak, you need to come with me right now. Mae wants you."

"But I'm not done with her. Can't you just give me five minutes?"

"Mae said now even if you aren't done with her, to bring her stat."

"Okay, take her. If that's what Mae wants."

Felicity grabbed her bag and followed the woman. Her nerves were getting the better of her, which always caused her to talk. "Oliver's alright isn't he? Everything is going to be all right. I can't believe he just fell out like that. Just passed smooth out on the porch. Why are you not assuring me that everything is going to be all right? Since you are being so quiet, now I'm thinking that something is really wrong, so very wrong. Is something wrong with Oliver? And why are we not going to the ER? We’re going the wrong way. Upstairs is bad. Why is he not still in the ER? And why are you not telling me anything?"

They were in the elevator now and the woman smiled and said, "Because you haven't given me the chance to get a word in edge wise. Just calm down, Ms. Smoak. Wow, are both of you two high strung, are what? Mr. Queen was awake and talking the last time I saw him."

"Then why are we going into the critical care unit?" Her heart pound and her mouth went dry.

"Because that's where he is now," she said, as the nurse at the desk pointed toward a room.

She pulled the door open and then she ran to him.

"Oliver, your nose is bleeding and I want to punch you, do you know that? What is going on with you? How are you feeling? Mae what is going on?"

"Breathe, Felicity."

His hug was almost too tight, but she didn't say anything.

Mae said, "Felicity pinch his nose and let's get that nosebleed stopped. Gloves are by the sink if you want them."

She wasn't scared of his blood, and she reached and pinched his nose, as he touched her side.

"Why is he here in CCU? And wow, Oliver is your hand cold or what?"

"Ice, he's been holding ice. Having a slight problem keeping him here. Ice helps ground him. And his blood pressure is still too high. I've started his meds, and he should be getting better soon. Oliver, how’s the vision?"

"Blurry."

"Felicity, now I need his shirt off and put the leads put on. I understand that he doesn't want to take his shirt off. But I need to see what his heart’s doing. And I want telemetry on him asap."

The look he gave her was pure panicked, and she knew he didn't want anyone to see his chest.

"Then clear the room. Only you and me." She gave Mae an intense look.

She was protecting him and when their eyes locked she knew he knew it. But she didn't know if he could stand taking his shirt off, since she knew the scars bothered him. He didn't want people to know about his scars, and he’d wouldn't want his team to know more about them.

"Out," Mae ordered the two nurses. "And Mindy, shut the door and then make sure that no one comes in, and I mean no one."

"Oliver, just shut your eyes and it will be over in no time. It's just, Mae. Help me take your shirt off," she said, as she slid her hands under his shirt's hem, but when she started to pull it over his head, he reached and stilled the motion.

"Wait. Give me a second."

She met his eyes and said, "Shh, just shut your eyes. I'm right here. Mae's a doctor. She won't tell anyone, will you Mae?"

"Of course not, Oliver. And I already know you have scars, remember?"

Then she said to him, "I'm here for you. We can do this. Let Mae help you, Oliver. I knew this was going to happen, I warned you. And look where we are. You are past stressed, so just let Mae help you."

"I'll be fine. I just want to go home."

"No, you're going to stay here where Mae can help you. Oliver, your nose is bleeding, you can't see well, pay attention, you're sick. Come on, choose to stay with me, to live. If you won't let Mae help you for you then do it for me. I need you."

"Okay." And he released her hands, and she pulled his shirt off in a smooth motion, but she noted he didn't shut his eyes. No, he faced Mae, and he stuck out his chin in clear defiance.

He was such a guy sometimes, she thought, but she was proud of him because he’d just chosen life and her.

To give Mae credit, she took in all that horror that was his chest and said, "I'm going to put the EKG leads on. They are probably going to feel cold."

But Felicity still saw Mae run her eyes over the scars on his chest, taking in all the brutality his chest had seen. And she knew Mae was putting up a front, that she was no doubt shocked. She understood. She'd been shocked when she'd first seen his chest and then his back, so shocked that he had survived all those injuries, and she knew that he had more scars now, Ra's sword for one.

But to her credit, the older woman did not linger, no Mae used quick movements, as she attached the leads to his chest.

"Lie down," Mae ordered him, "I'm going to let the EKG run for a few minutes."

But first Felicity helped him slip a hospital gown on, covering him up. Her hand slipped carefully across his skin, and he tried to smile, but she could tell it was an effort for him.

Then she reached and held his cold hand, and she noted that he was hugging his chest, which meant he was in pain.

He was scaring her badly, the thought that he could really die on her frightened her. Jesus, he’d survived so much and now his own body, his own stress might take him from her.

"I love you," she told him softly. "But you scared me. I know you didn't want me to call 911. But I didn't know what else to do."

"It's a good thing you did, Felicity," said Mae. "He's not out of the woods yet. His blood pressure’s out of control. He's a prime candidate for a stroke or heart attack and a list of other things, though amazingly it doesn't look like you had a heart attack, Oliver. Now, I need to take the leads off and put the telemetry on you."

Mae reached for his chest and he caught her hand.

"Sorry, reflex," he said, she thought a bit sheepishly, as he released Mae's hand, but he allowed her to remove the leads and put the other leads on. She watched Mae slip the small blue box into the pocket of his gown, then the woman walked over and opened the door and let the nurse back in.

"Get him hooked up. I want his blood pressure read every 10 to 15 minutes for the first two hours. If it isn't going down, call my cell. Felicity, a word please."

"Oliver, I will be right back. You stay put. Here's the remote."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

"It turns the TV on."

"You know I don't watch TV."

"Then take a nap."

And he made a face.

"Okay, here," she pulled her hair tie from her hair, and he gave her a small knowing smile, as he took it.

"Just don't give Mindy a hard time. I'll be right back. Look at me, Oliver. I love you, remember that."

And his hand reached for her, and they touched each other, and their hands lingered before they parted.

Entering the hall, Mae walked down the hall and opened a small room, clearly a conference room.

"Tell me what is wrong with Oliver?" She demanded, as soon as they were inside and the door closed.

"I think he had a flashback that caused him to hyperventilate, which caused him to pass out and somehow spiked his blood pressure. Then when they got him to the ER, his PTSD kicked in. He was fighting them when I arrived in the ER, and he was panicked, which drove his blood pressure up even higher. He didn't want any treatment, Felicity, tried to deny it but he needs it. You are going to have to talk some sense into him, or he’s going to walk out the instant he feels better."

"No, he's not. He's staying."

"That's what I want to hear. It normally takes about six hours to get the blood pressure back to normal. And who knows what his normal even is?"

"He runs a little high, normally, but he's on stress overload."

"186/132 high?"

"Heavens no. So that's why he is in CCU?"

"Yes. Now, I’d like to run some tests, and I want to keep him at least overnight. You need to get him to calm down enough to do the tests. So I'm going to need your total support here."

"He's not going to want to stay here for the night. He's not sleeping again, Mae."

"Which probably added to him falling out today and maybe his blood pressure problems. Okay, let's go tell him."

"Just a question, Mae. We do have the option of knocking him out, right?"

"Got the syringe right here."

#####OQ#####

"I am not staying." He was panicking again. No, he couldn't stay here.

"Yes, you are."

And he could see Felicity wasn't giving an inch on this.

"Look I didn't have a heart attack. I'm feeling better. My blood pressure is coming down. I want to go home. Felicity, take me home."

"How are your eyes?" Mae asked.

"Better." Okay, he was lying but he couldn't stay here, "Please, Felicity. You know I can't stay here. I need to go home."

"You're staying and that is the end of it."

She had that tone, the one that mean she was serious and intent.

"No, I'm okay now. I'm sorry I scared you. But everything is going to be fine."

"Would you stop lying, Oliver? And haven't I told you repeatedly about using that word? You came so close to a heart attack or stroke today. You were in real danger. Your nose was bleeding when I came in because your blood pressure was too high. And not because you'd been fighting. You're still in danger. Your organs are in danger. Pay attention, your blood pressure could destroy your eyes and your kidneys, just for starters. What part of you're not immoral, do you not understand?"

"If only you hadn't come home so early."

"Mae, please leave, this is going to get ugly."

Mae looked at both them then said, "Okay, I'll be back in a little bit."

"And shut the door."

"Look, Felicity." He knew he’d put his foot in this mouth. How stupid could he be to say that?

"No, you look. Are you telling me this has happened before? That you have fell out and just ignored it? That if I hadn't have come home, you would have just picked yourself up off that porch and pretended nothing had happened? Is that what you’re telling me?"

Her voice was rising, and he cringed because he knew it was true.

He had blackouts. He lost time sometimes, and he had waking flashbacks. And he didn't know how to stop it. And, yes sometimes he had a headache when he came back.

"How can you do that, Oliver? How could you do that to me? Mae told me that you were probably having a flashback when you hyperventilated. And I get that you are stressing over the soccer team. But I am so damn mad at you right now. I told you. Didn't I tell you?"

"It's okay. I was just."

"Just what? Oliver, you could die on me. You could leave me alone. Your body can't handle your stress. You had a panic attack today and it could have killed you. Understand you could have died and left me alone."

"I did not have a panic attack."

That just wasn't true, he did not have panic attacks.

"Yes, you did." She was intense, as she looked at him and said, "And I'll bet when the blood work comes back your oxygen levels are going to be off the charts, and you were hyperventilating. That's the reason that you passed out. Luckily this time you didn't have a heart attack. And again? Where you having a flashback?"

He refused to answer her.

"Okay, I will take that as a yes. What happened, Oliver? Where were you?"

"No more. I can't talk about this anymore."

"Can't or won't. Do even you remember what happened, Oliver?"

"I'm feeling better, and I want released. I can't stay here." He couldn't think about this. The anger was creeping in. His rage at himself was starting to engulf him. This was his fault, if he had just kept it together this argument wouldn't be happening. He would be home with her right now starting dinner and ignoring his headache.

"That's right ignore me. You don't know do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have too. And you're staying overnight. Mae's told me it's going to take a least six hours to get your blood pressure stabilized as it is. And she wants to run some tests on you. I want you to have those tests, all of the tests."

"NO! I'll check myself out. I can't stay, Felicity." His panic was rising, as he looked her straight in the eyes and said, "I can't sleep here, Felicity. Understand me. I CAN'T SLEEP HERE. Either Mae releases me, or I'm walking out."

"What you mean is that you can't dream here."

"No, I can't. There I said it. Are you happy now? I mean it I’m leaving just as soon as my blood pressure comes down."

"If you do then don't come home." She put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin.

She’d shocked him with her words, and he could tell from the tone of her voice that she meant it but he still said, "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." Her face was intense. "I mean it. I love you but you can't keep putting me through this. I watched you fall to the porch today and my heart wanted to stop. Remember when I was sick, Oliver? And you wanted me to fight to live?"

"Of course, I do."

"Well, Oliver, you are NOT fighting. You're avoiding, you're ignoring your health, and I'm not going to watch you die. Remember, we can't fight illness. We learned that when I drowned and got sick. But don't you ask me to find you dead on the porch for that would destroy me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. So if you want to fight for us, I'm here for you, standing right beside you, with my fists up, and you know I can't really fight, but at least I'm willing to try, but you have to try too."

Then she frowned at him before she said, "And if you get out of that bed and walk out. I'm done. We are DONE."

The look she gave him was intense and it made him feel past guilty. This was his fault. If he had just stayed in control, none of this would have happened.

"I'm so sorry you had to find me like that," he said softly, as he caught her hand and pulled her to him, into his space. "I know you didn't know what to do. And I'll come back for the tests. Just, please, don't ask me to sleep here."

It was his last ditch effort, even though he really still felt awful.

She reached and pulled him against her and said dryly, "Charm isn't going to work, and you don't sleep anyway, Oliver. And if you have ever slept in a hospital you should know they wake you up constantly. You'll never make it to REM."

"I have slept more with you in the past few months than I have slept in years." And he gave her a small smile.

"That's scary you know? Mae could sedate you if that would help." She pulled away from him and gave him one of her special smiles before she said in a hard voice, "But you ARE staying. And since when has our relationship ever been a democracy? You’ve never given me a vote," her hand reached and touched his face before she looked in his eyes and said, "Well this time I'm the tyrant. I’m making this choice, Oliver. Not you! Not this time. I told you I want you to stay with me. No, I NEED you to stay with me. Process it. I mean it. I love you. You aren't leaving me. So you are staying until Mae releases you."

He sighed and shut his still somewhat blurry eyes and said in defeat, "Okay, but you have to stay with me. Sleep with me."

She frowned and said, "Your bed is awful small."

"We can do it. I lay really close to you, as it is. We don't need much room. It might be a little uncomfortable, but we can do it. If you want me to stay, then you have to stay with me."

And she put her arms around him, tucking her face into his neck, and he breathed in her scent, as she said, "Okay, good choice, Oliver. Not that I was giving you one."

#####OQ####

At was about 3 a.m. and he hadn't been sleeping. No, just lying on his side with her tucked against him, as he willed the time to pass until the sun rose.

He was regretting wanting her in the bed with him, for even if she was in her sweet Hello Kitty PJ's, he wanted her. His hand reached and pulled her little closer to him. Softly, his mouth found her neck and moved down across her shoulder, softly, slowly. She tasted so sweet.

"I want you too, but you need to behave," she whispered into the somewhat dark room, where the monitors lit the background and the sound of alarms, coughs, and people moving outside the door could be heard, and his hand moved to cup her breast.

She rolled toward him and she said, "If you don't stop then two can play that game," and her mouth was nibbling on his ear, and he was losing it.

"You do you realize we’re in critical care?" He said with concern that if she kept it up, he was going to keep going.

"I know, which means we have to stop. I take it you're feeling better?"

Oh, yeah, he was feeling better. "Lots. Can we go home yet? I'll make it worth your while. We could sneak out of here."

"You're spoiled brat side is showing, Oliver."

"I know, but oh, the things I could be doing to you right now if we were home. And you're right, sleeping is impossible here, so what else can we do." And he leaned in and softly kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and the kiss seemed to go on and on.

Someone then knocked on the door, and a nurse wheeled her computer on wheels into the room. Flipping on the lower lights the woman smiled at them, as Felicity pushed herself away from him.

"Busted," said the woman with a bubbly laugh. "And I have to say this is a new one for me. Most people in CCU don't feel that well or have people in bed with them. Wait till I tell the husband."

Oliver thought great and who will he tell? Then he just laughed and said, "Breathe, Felicity. We've been caught before. And, for the record, I tried to get Mae and you to release me."

"Oh, my gosh." She sat straight up in the bed and said. "That's it."

"What's it."

"The trigger. I'll tell you in a minute. Let me look at my tablet. I need a calendar." And she climbed out of the bed.

"Excuse me," said the nurse. "Oliver, it's time to get your vitals again, since you refused to be hooked to an automatic blood pressure cuff, though after what I just walked in on, I'm sure I'm not going to get a true resting reading."

Oliver forced himself not to smile.

The nurse took his readings. "Pretty good, 135/92. A lot better. Almost normal. I'll see you in an hour. And Oliver, if you want out of here, I'd behave."

Okay, he grinned.

As soon as the nurse left the room, Felicity was back in the bed with him and the excitement showed in her voice. "Remember how people with PTSD have triggers. Something triggered the new dream, Oliver. The dream started five days ago, and Oliver that was the night we got busted on the motorcycle. The night we both thought we were going to get arrested."

"Okay? What's your point?"

"Oliver, what do they do with you when you get arrested?"

"Put you in jail. Where are you going with this?"

"They put you in a cage, Oliver. A cage. That was the trigger. The thought of going to jail set off the dreams you're having. So what was today's trigger?"

"I don't know?"

"Think, what were you doing? What was the last thing you remember doing?"

"I was reading Adrian's file. I had just opened it and then I just don't know." He turned his head away from her for an instant.

When he looked back her fingers were flying across the screen. And she said, "Adrian Michael Herron, 17, Arrested for fleeing, public drunk, disorderly conduct after being busted at a party and assaulting a police officer."

Michael, heaven help him. The room went fuzzy. He didn't want to think about Mike. No, that would lead to Hedeon. He had to get the IV out of his arm. "I don't want the IV. Stop helping me. Just let me bleed out."

"Oliver, your breathing’s too shallow. You're having a flashback."

The nurse opened the door and said, "The tech says your heart is beating too fast. Didn't I warn you to behave?"

He heard, "Ice, I need ice. Hurry get me some ice."

"Oliver, look around what do you see? Talk to me. Tell me what you see?"

"Mike’s stitching my chest. It hurts. The room’s dark. I'm tied to the damn bed. IV in my arm. Have to get the IV out of my arm. Just stop helping me! Let me bleed out. Finish me. Stop helping me."

"Oliver!" Her voice was intense. "No, look really look. See me? Smell me, Oliver. You're not there. You're here with me. I love you, Oliver. Smell me, here hold this."

Something cold was in his hand and he could almost hear her.

"It's cold."

Yes, it is. Welcome back, Oliver, you just had a flashback. Now hold onto that piece of ice and tell me who is Mike?"

He concentrated on the cold ice in his hand and shut his eyes before he opened them and chose his words carefully, so carefully before he said, "A man who saved my life repeatedly, and a man that later I had to kill. Now stop, Felicity. No more. I can't tell you anymore."

"Of course, you can't. But you will, Oliver, trust me, before this is over you will. Believe what you want, but you will. And now look at me, see me?"

"I see you. I'm back with you. Can we go home yet?"

"Tomorrow, Oliver. I love you."

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for the read and please review if you have time.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

#####OQ#####

Her phone rang and she frowned and stopped writing code, thinking the unknown number was vaguely familiar. Placing her tablet on Oliver's bed in CCU, she answered. "Hello?"

"Felicity, what exactly happened to Ollie? Is he better this morning? I want to I talk to him?"

"Thea," Felicity said sharply, wishing she could go back to killing time writing code. She frowned, knowing that Thea was the very last person she wanted to talk to right now, well, besides her mother.

Sighing, she said, "Yes, he's better, but, no, you can't talk to him. He's out of room, having tests run."

"What tests?"

"I don't know exactly." Now, she was starting to panic a little. What was she going to say to Thea? What would Oliver want her to tell her?

Nothing was the answer, and she knew it. And if she wasn't careful, she would give out too much information. Biting her bottom lip for an instant, she considered what she could tell Thea.

"I know they have taken more blood, and he was headed to x-ray, and Mae wanted to give him a MRI and a chemical stress test but she didn't know if he would," she stopped herself mid-babble, before she could say the words freak out and have another panic attack or maybe worse a flashback during the tests. None of which would be good.

"Would what?"

Think, she told herself.

"Be able to handle the tests." That at least sounded better, until she added, "His blood pressure was up yesterday. So, they're checking his heart, and whatever else, Mae has scheduled for him this morning. And Mae's been trying to talk him into canceling the team's first practice, but he's resisting. He wants released so he can go to practice."

"Ollie's stubborn like that. And Mae's his doctor? Good. He trusts her judgment. But, his blood pressure was up? What's wrong with him? I want to talk to Mae, as soon as I land. Does this town even have a taxi service or a car rental? Or can you come and pick me up?"

"You're landing? Where? Oh, oh, do you mean here? Now?"

Oh frack, Oliver's going to seriously freak out now. "But, I told John to tell you to wait. Not to come. And, you know who Mae is?"

"I remember Mae was your doctor, and my brother and I talked every day you were sick. The only reason I didn't visit when you were sick was that he didn't want me to. I don't think he wanted me to see him out of control. So I talked to him every day, and Dig and I helped keep everyone posted."

"I never really knew that you knew he was having problems, when I was sick."

"Oh, course I knew. He's my brother. And yes, Dig told me what you said, but I wasn't waiting this time. Felicity, yes, I mean I'm here."

"Here? Here?" 

Oh, this was bad, very bad.

"Yes, here, here. Circling above your head, waiting on clearance to land. And of, course, I came. Ollie's my brother, the only family I have left, except Malcolm, and I'm still not really claiming Daddy dearest at the moment. I had to come and make sure he was all right. See him with my own eyes. Plus, I haven't seen either of you in months, which means it was time for a visit. I miss you both. So I hopped a jet."

"Oh, of course you did." 

Great, just great, like she didn't have enough problems, she thought, but she said, "We miss you too, but he's going to be fine, Thea. I'm sorry I worried you."

Heaven help her now she was using that word to lie, for she wasn't totally sure after yesterday if he really was going to be FINE.

He truthfully could have died. His blood pressure had been high enough to cause a heart attack or a stroke or could have damaged major organs, including his kidneys or his sight. He wasn't even close to fine, but she couldn't tell Thea that, for it wasn't her place.

Only this morning, Mae had refused to schedule a chemical stress test and several other tests. And Oliver's face hadn’t been pretty when Mae told him that the last thing he needed was a real heart attack and if yesterday was any indication, his PTSD wasn't under control. So the tests could be dangerous.

And Mae still didn't know what'd caused his blood pressure to spike, didn't know why his body had decided to stop regulating his blood pressure. And all Felicity knew was he'd had a flashback over a man named Mike, who'd been stitching his chest. Not enough to explain why the triggers were causing the flashbacks.

The only clues she had, since he stubbornly refused to talk about the dreams or the flashbacks, were a small cage, and whoever had given him those two scars on his back and chest. That person had to be who was pushing him over the edge, but she didn't have a clue who that person was, or why he was haunting him right now. Oh, yes, he was differently her own personal puzzle.

Thea's impatient voice broke into her thoughts. "Well, he wasn't fine yesterday, when you called Dig panicked saying Ollie'd collapsed, and you thought he was having a heart attack. Then you texted to say he was in CCU. Critical care, Felicity. I was in CCU on life support and so were you!”

“Yeah, you have a point there.”

“A point. Look, people in CCU are hardly FINE. There’s a reason they call it CRITICAL CARE. Now, what's WRONG with my brother?"

"I guess I shouldn't have done that. Sorry, I was upset at the time."

Yeah, that was dumb, that had been inviting Thea and maybe more of them to come. And why had she answered this call? It would have been easy to hit the ignore button.

She did it all the time to her mother.

Not that it would have made Thea go away, since it never worked for her mother. She always called back. But at least she wouldn't be having this conversation right now.

"That's not an answer. Is my brother rubbing off on you are what? He lies the best, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“I’ll bet but, regardless, I got on the plane. What’s the use of owning a private jet if you can’t use it?”

“I wouldn’t know. Is anyone else with you?”

Please say no, she prayed.

“Laurel wanted to come, but she couldn't get away because she has court today. And, Dig’s still upset with Ollie over the whole league thing, so he wouldn't even discuss coming, but he was clearly worried about him. And did you honestly think I wouldn't come? He's my brother. My only brother and I have already lost him more than once."

"No, of course, you should come and be with him, but I texted you this morning that he was improving and not to worry."

"I'm on a jet talking on a satellite phone. My cell phone doesn't work in the air, so I turned it off to save the battery. I haven't gotten your text.”

“Oh.”

“But hopefully in about twenty minutes, I'll need a ride. We're circling the airport right now. You'd think this town has never had a private jet land before. Now can you come and pick me up, or do I need to see about renting a car? And you still haven't answered my question. What happened to my brother?"

Oh, frack, she was saying repeatedly in her head. What should she tell Thea? That her always in control brother, the man who normally took control to new heights had recently lost his control?

Or maybe that his PTSD flashbacks stressed him straight into a panic attack and he’d collapsed?

Or, maybe should she tell Thea her brother experienced nightmares bad enough he screamed in his sleep?

Or should she tell her that his PTSD caused him to zone out completely, while he was awake, and from the looks of things, had been bad enough that a name had caused him to hyperventilate and had spiked his blood pressure so high it’d landed him in CCU?

Oliver would be seriously upset, if she told Thea any of the above.

He was already going to freak right out when he found out Thea was here. Oh, FRACK! His blood pressure was going to shoot straight back up again, and she didn't know if she could get him to stay another night in the hospital, threats or not.

And her threat that she didn't want him to come home if he checked himself out was just that, a threat. She was so addicted to him that she could never let him go.

"Felicity? Have I lost you?"

"No, I'm still here. Look, Thea, you'll have to ask your brother exactly what's wrong with him, for it's not my place to answer that question. But yes, I'll come and pick you up and you can stay with us, but you'll have to sleep on the couch. The place we’re renting is a one bedroom."

"No, that's okay. You can come and pick me up, but I'll rent a motel, and probably a car too, since I'm sure the two of you are still all over each other, and right now, I'm currently single, so I prefer not to hear or witness that."

"Thea!"

 And Felicity could feel the blush creeping on her face, for what Thea had said was very true, and even right now she couldn't wait to get him home. It had now been over 24 hours, since, she had last touched him, and how she wanted to touch him. And that little make out session last night had only made her want him more.

"I know my brother, Felicity. You two are having sex. A lot of sex. And I prefer not to watch or hear. Trust me, unless, he's too sick to have sex, I'm not staying with the two of you."

"Please, Thea, stop. You're embarrassing me." Thoughts of last night crept into her mind, for no, he wasn't too sick to not initiate sex.

"You need to get over that, since you're living with my brother, who I know for a fact, when he was young got caught more than once having sex in inappropriate places. I can't believe he hasn't . . ."

"Thea! Stop. I don’t want to know that, and no way I’m I having this conversation with you." Like she didn't already know that since they’d been busted more than once now. At least, Thea couldn't see her blushing through the phone.

"I'm his sister, and sometimes, I wonder who's more grownup here? But, he's not really sick is he? He didn't have a heart attack? Tell me he didn't have a heart attack."

"No, he did not." And she also wondered if Thea was more grownup then her. If nothing else, sometimes, Thea seemed to have more life experience, almost an aura around her, especially after her dip in the pit.

"Then what happened? I mean isn't not like he has cancer or a tumor or something? Tell me the truth. Everyone used to lie to me all the time. What is it with my family lying to me, withholding the truth from me?"

"Maybe they're trying to protect you, trying to keep you safe."

"Well, it didn't work did it? But, I don't think you've lied to me yet, Felicity, so tell me the truth. What's WRONG with my brother?"

"I can't tell you. But no, it's nothing like cancer. You just need to talk to him. I don't think he would want me to discuss it with you."

"Well at least you're telling me the truth, unlike Ollie. I just wish everyone would get over this need to protect me from the truth. I'm an adult, and I wish people would start acting like I am.”

“I agree.”

“I mean they need to wake up. In the last year, I’ve buried my mother, lost Roy twice, died and been pit resurrected. I am what could be called a living, breathing, zombie."

"Now that's taking it a little far. I haven't noticed you eating people."

Thea laughed then added, "No, but I'm strong enough to take the truth. Remember I shot Ollie in the wrist with an arrow to protect Dig. And now, I'm running around in a red suit protecting people in my spare time. I think I can handle whatever you're keeping from me about my brother."

"I'm sure you can. It's just not my place to tell you."

"Ollie and his always trying to protect me because I might get upset if I know just needs to stop. And now he's managing to get you do it too. Really, I can handle it if you tell me. Tell me the truth."

Guilt filled her because Thea was right.

Not that she thought he’d see it that way. "I understand your frustration, Thea, but I can't tell you. You’ll have to talk to your brother."

"Fine, I'll do just that. Well, then tell me what you can. Tell me whatever he won't get upset about. Help kill time until they finally let the plane land. I understand that you and him are complicated. But I also know that he really loves you, and I'm glad. He’s been alone too long. And he’s been happy lately. I love it. I can hear it in his voice when I talk to him. Thank you, Felicity."

"For what?"

"For making him happy. He deserves to be happy. Now tell me what happened?"

Sighing, she shut her eyes to steady herself, before she opened them. "I came home from upgrading the hospital's network, and watched him clutch his chest and just collapse onto the porch. And you're right I panicked. It wasn't like I haven't seen him unconscious enough times to know he was out, but normally he’s bleeding or injected with something."

"Injected with something? Bleeding?"

"Forget I said that, he wouldn't want you to know that."

"Well of course he wouldn't. Okay, I get that he got hurt sometimes. No doubt caused by how he's been spending his nights for the last three years. Go on." Thea said dryly.

"And believe me I know he doesn't want me to call 911, but it was what he said that made me. And I needed help. I didn't have a prayer of being able to lift him, and I thought he was having a heart attack."

"Oh, course you should have called 911. No matter what Ollie said about it later. What was he say before he collapsed?"

A text pinged and she saw Cisco's face popped up. "How’s he doing this morning? Any news? Should we come?"

Oh frack, no, she didn't need more of them coming. Not that she didn't love their friends, but Oliver would be beside himself if more people knew he had a panic attack that had landed him in CCU.

"Felicity, are you there? What did he say that made you think he was having a heart attack?"

"I'm still here. Just got a text from Cisco, he's wondering about Oliver."

"Cisco's kind of cute in a nerdy kind of way. But what did he say when he fell out.?"

"He said he couldn't breathe and his chest hurt. He was dizzy and confused. I thought my heart was going to stop when he clutched his chest and fell out. I could tell he was out of control, not like Oliver at all. Then he just collapsed. I didn't know what else to do but call 911. Thea, I CALLED 911.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I know but I’ve spent three years playing doctor with him and have never called 911. And I didn't just say that to you. I didn’t mean playing doctor. I meant playing doctor. Oh, never mind."

Thea laughed then said, "What he doing before you called 911? What caused this?"

"From the mess on the porch, he'd been reading his soccer team's files. He'd been out that afternoon doing recon on his team. I didn't know what happened because he still hasn't debriefed."

Another text pinged and this time she saw John's name.

"Lyla is wondering how he is this morning."

And Felicity thought, right, John, and you don't care. You’re just officially almost reaching out to Oliver. John, who, wouldn't even discuss his friend, with her the last few weeks. She wanted to do a fist pump because clearly Dig was the one wondering.

"But you said he was better today? Was he mad you call 911?"

"Not really and yes, he's much better this morning and his blood pressure's only slightly up. And that's maybe his normal."

"So this has to do with his blood pressure doesn't it?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did. And Ollie's barely thirty. He's not supposed to have high blood pressure at his age. Something's wrong. I think he needs to come home and get checked out, Felicity. Yes, we finally have clearance to land. Come and pick me up."

Oh, frack, she thought, but she said, "Okay I'm on my way." 

And since she'd forgotten his phone yesterday, she couldn’t warn him that his was sister here, and she wanted him to return to Starling City.

Another text pinged and Laurel's face came up. "How is he? Has Thea landed yet?"

"Thanks for the late heads up, Laurel." She said out loud, and then groaned because this was getting out of control quickly.

And all these people, including Oliver, stressed her. And she was sure that he’d sweep his illness under the rug, just as quickly as he could. Yes, the man would do his normal this never happened to me thing, and leave her to deal with all their friend's questions, of this, she had no doubt.

Quickly, she typed out a mass text to all of them, assuring them Oliver was lots better, as she wondered how he’d handled all these people when she’d been sick?

As the elevator opened and there stood Barry, dressed like the Flash, she screamed.

"Sorry to scare you. How is he?"

"Oh, frack, Barry. Talk about giving me a heart attack. What if someone sees you? Meet me outside in the parking lot. The silver Porsche."

"Felicity, you and I need to work on keeping my identity secret. See you there."

And he was gone in a flash, leaving her chewing on her lip, as she tried to figure out what to tell everyone. No way was Oliver going with the truth here, no way at all.

OH FRACK!

#####OQ#####

"Now what is wrong with Oliver?"

"That seems to be the question of the day and one I can't answer." Felicity said, "You need to ask him, yourself. I can't tell you, Barry. And you need real clothes. You’re going to draw attention to yourself in that suit."

Barry disappeared, then reappeared in a sweat suit, as he stowed a bag on the seat.

"I won't ask where you got those clothes."

"No, probably not a good idea. But don't worry, I'll return them. And, I just talked to Cisco, and seriously Oliver had a panic attack that spiked his blood pressure? That’s unreal."

"Oh, frack, I need to fix that blasted firewall. And encrypt Oliver's medical records. Who's going to be angry you know by the way. And I'm still not talking to you about this. All I can say is talk to him."

“Yeah and we both know he’s such a chatty guy.”

Her phone went off and Thea's face came up. "I have to go to the airport to pick up Thea, and you can't come since the car is a two seater. Hey, could you go and find Oliver and warn him, I mean tell him Thea’s here."

"Sure. I can do that." He said with a grin.

Ping. And Caitlin's face came up along with the message, "Is he trying to DIE? His blood pressure's too high. What's his doctor doing?"

"Caitlin?" asked Barry.

"Yes and an upset Caitlin. Thanks, Cisco. Oh, but, he's going to blow a gasket when he finds out. Work with me here."

He smiled at her.

"Please, don't stress him. He really needs to stop stressing. His blood pressure can't take it."

"Wow, high blood pressure. Who would have thought the Arrow could have high blood pressure?"

#####OQ#####

"Barry?" He was shocked to see his friend standing, by the window looking at him.

He'd just made it back to the room, in a wheel chair, which he hated, and Felicity was gone.

Where was she?

"Back in the bed. Mae's orders," His nurse, Becky, wheeled him beside the bed and checked his IV.

"Sure thing." He knew Becky from Felicity time in CCU, and he knew fighting her wasn't going to get him anywhere. So, he'd do what she wanted, and as soon as she left the room, he’d get up.

Barry came toward him with his hand extended. "Glad to see you're feeling better. And I don't suppose you want to talk about what happened yesterday?"

"No, I don't," Becky when out the do and he stood and shook Barry’s hand.

"Felicity refused to tell me why you're in CCU too."

"Where is Felicity? And thanks for taking the time to run down here, but I'm getting released soon. No worries."

"Really, what's going on with you? It's not like I don't already know you have PTSD. But you must have had one bad panic attack to spike your blood pressure that high."

His stomach fell. "I did not have a . . . Never mind. How would you know that?"

"You've met my friend Cisco? Talk to me, my friend. What is going on with you? I heard you're coaching soccer, surely that can't be that stressful after all you've been through?"

"Of course, it isn't. Damn, Cisco hacked my medical records didn't he? Who else knows?" His voice turned low and dark.

His mind whirled since that meant that Barry's team knew. What would they think? Would they think he was weak, out of control?

What if it was true? His heart sped up and his stomach plunged.

"You think you're the only one with a hacker on your team? Speaking of which, oh, yeah, I forgot. I'm supposed to tell you that Felicity went to pick up your sister at the airport."

"Thea?" Breathing became hard. His chest tightened and the possibility he could have another panic attack, one that would skyrocket his blood pressure back up, suddenly seemed very real.

Trying to control his fury, he tried to push the anger down, but the very thought that now more people knew he hadn't been in control and that he had PTSD, was smothering him, and he had to force himself to listen to Barry.

"Yeah, Thea. I actually met your sister this summer. Sweet kid. I like the red suit."

He smiled against his will, thinking about Thea as Speedy. "You would, since red is your color. But Thea’s here?"

Now what was he going to do? What was he going to tell her?

"Yes she is. Now the truth. What’s going on with you?"

What was he going to tell Barry, or Thea? She was going to demand answers, and Mae would, no doubt, give them to her, unless he somehow kept Thea from talking to Mae. Like that was going to happen. If there was one thing his sister excelled in, it was getting her own way. What was he going to do?

"Barry, really, I can't talk about this right now."

His door opened and Becky stuck her head in. "What are you doing? The tech just called and said your heart rate’s picked up?"

"I'm fine, Becky. Just give me a minute."

She frowned at him then said, "Alright, but you had better calm down and get back in the bed."

"Your heart rate’s up just from thinking about whatever’s bothering you, Oliver. What is going on with you? Maybe you need to talk about this."

"Look, I can't talk about it. You don't understand."

"Okay, maybe, I don't, but you need to understand that we are all here for you. We're your friends, and we’re not judging you. And, we’re going to stand by you. Panic attacks or not."

"I did not have a . . ." The words would not come out of his mouth.

"You can't even say the words."

His hands were clinched now. "Thanks, for the concern and the support. But I'm going to be fine."

"Hey, if you remember I'm your friend and know you have had hallucinations before, and we all have some type of issue that embarrasses us."

The look he gave Barry made him back up and put his hands palms up with the words, "Not that I am saying you're embarrassed but if you were, I'm just saying that each of us is struggling with something. Look at me. My entire life has been drama. First losing my parents, and then I got struck by lightning and when then I woke up."

He put his hands on his pockets’ "Well, as you know, I woke up different, and I had to find people to help me. You were one of those people who helped me cope with my gift, to come to terms with it. So, I'm here for you. What can I do to help you? Are you having hallucinations, flashbacks maybe? Do you want to talk about your PSTD?"

Looked at his feet, he felt honored by Barry heartfelt words, as he said quietly, "No, I don't want to talk about it. I can't even say the letters out loud, yet."

"Maybe you need some help dealing with it, coming to terms with you PSTD."

"Stop saying those letters, Barry."

"We’ve all have known it for a long time. Look at what you used to do with your evenings. And we all want to help you. We're concerned about you. And it's the truth. You have PSTD."

"All right, maybe, I do. But, thanks, you've already helped me by being here for me. But I can't talk about it. I don't know how to deal with that time in my life. I’ve buried it so deep that I just don't how to talk about it."

"But those memories don't seem to be staying buried. I know from experience. I’ve been lucky and had Iris to talk to. Maybe you need to talk to someone, too. Maybe you need to make peace with your past. Need to stop letting it control you."

"I don't know if I can." He hung his head.

"Well what you are doing doesn't seem to be working. And you're scaring Felicity, and if you haven't noticed she loves you.”

“I know that.”

“And, I’ve watched the two of you struggle and suffer because you wouldn't reach for each other, maybe you were scared, but face it, you love her too. Well maybe it is a wakeup call, and you need to figure out what is going on with your body, so you live to be with her. I saw your numbers, and they were bad. Like you could have died yesterday bad."

"I know." He met Barry's eyes. "And you're right, I love her."

"I knew that a long time ago. But you know what? I have to admit I'm enjoying the fact you were wrong."

"About what?"

"About sometimes guys like us do get the girl. You give me hope."

"Barry, sometimes I don't mind being wrong." And he smiled, realizing his friend wasn't judging him for having PTSD or for losing control. Then, he said, "Thanks for coming. You made me feel better."

"Us heroes have to hang together, you know." And Barry smiled back. "But even though I know it’s not in you DNA makeup, maybe you need to ask for help. You need to find someone to talk to. Find someone who can help you put the past into the past, where it belongs."

"I can't talk to a stranger about my past. I've thought about it a lot lately. I can't even talk to my friends about my past.”

“But Felicity?”

“I’ve tried. The words won't come out. And Felicity and I have discussed this subject a lot lately."

"Well that's a step in the right direction, so keep discussing it with her and maybe the words will come out. What you need to remember is you can trust her, with anything you tell her, and we both know you trust her the most."

"I don't suppose you told Thea about what happened yesterday?"

"No, sorry, she not a member of my team. You're going to have to tell her."

"How, do I do that?"

"How did you tell her you were the Arrow?"

He shrugged. "I just told her."

"Seems like that would be the answer then. Look, I have to run. Take care of yourself."

#####OQ#####

Thea ran to him when she entered the room. And he enfolded her in his arms. Felicity hung back, giving them a minute.

"Shh, I'm okay. I'm sorry I scared you. Everything is going to be fine. I'm better today."

"Would you stop lying, Ollie? I’m so damn mad at you right now."

While he hugged her, he met Felicity's eyes, and she shrugged and shook her head, which he took to mean telling Thea what happened would be his problem.

Thea pulled away from him. "I want to talk to your doctor."

"She's not here right now."

"Well, when she is here? I want to talk to her. And aren't you supposed to be in the bed?"

"I'm not sick. They’re just monitoring my blood pressure."

"Then why are you in CCU?"

"Well. . . I." And for the life of him, he couldn't think of a good lie.

Felicity said, "I'm going to get some coffee. Thea, do you want some coffee?"

"No, I'm good."

"I'll take a cup."

"No caffeine for you. Mae's orders."

He frowned deeply. "I'm over Mae's orders. And don't you dare bring me decaf."

"Doesn't sound like you're getting coffee then." And she gave him one of those wonderful smiles of hers.

Thea said, "You should listen to your doctor, Ollie. Now humor me and get in the bed."

"Okay." And he climbed back in the bed, hating it but wanting to please his sister.

"Ollie, what is wrong with your blood pressure? And why am I not surprised that you have PSTD and somehow a flashback spiked your blood pressure? I remember you had nightmares when you came home. This makes everything much clearer. No wonder you act the way you do."

"Felicity told you?" He was shocked, yet, relieved she knew.

"No, she only told me that you were having blood pressure problems, and that you didn't have a heart attack. Now, tell me what is wrong with you?"

He turned his head away from her and forced himself to say the words, "I have PTSD and I had a. . ."

"Panic attack?" Thea filled in the blank for him and he winced.

"I did not have a panic attack, Thea." He would die denying it. "I was just . . ."

"Yes, you did. And as usual you're lying to me. I know because Caitlin called me before Felicity could pick me up. She told me everything that is in your chart. You almost died, Ollie. What is going on with you?"

Silently, he thanked Caitlin for telling her, and then wondered if Barry hadn't had something to do with Caitlin's call to Thea?

Barry really was his friend.

"Ollie, you need help. You need to ask for help. Next time you might not be so lucky. I want you to come back to Star City for more tests."

"Star City?"

"They renamed it to honor, Ray Palmer."

"Well that's nice." Just what he wanted to be reminded of, Ray. Just his name was enough to make him frown, to make the rage light up in his stomach.

"Ollie? Where are you? Are you listening to me?"

"I'm here. But I'm not going back yet. I want to coach my soccer team. I have to stay here at least through the season."

"But, I want you to come home. You can have the loft. I have been staying with Laurel most of the time now anyway. And, I'm worried about you."

"I know you are, and I'm sorry I worried you. But I like my doctor, here. Mae understands me, and I trust her, which is hard, for believe it or not, Thea, I have real trust issues. I can't let just anyone treat me, so I need to stay here."

Thea gave him a look that said she understood. "Okay, but I'm staying a few days. At least until Mae releases you. And I’m here to see that goofy grin Felicity keeps talking about." Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Okay." And he gave her a small grin. "I'll try to grin just for you."

"#####OQ#####

A while later, Felicity and Thea left to rent Thea a car and find her a hotel room, and he paced, fighting sleep, when Mae came in. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Send me home. I have practice today."

"Get in the bed. You look tired. Why don't you take a nap? I hear you haven't slept since you've been here."

"Have my tests came back?"

"Most of them, yes. Your heart’s strong, no sign of stroke, low cancer counts, kidneys are functioning correctly and luckily the attack didn't seem to affect your eyes. You’re a lucky man. You could have died."

"I'm harder to kill than I look, Mae."

"I bet you are, but you do have pre-hypertension and for some reason your body decided to spike your blood pressure into a hypertensive crisis.”

“I’m sure I would have been fine.”

“Hard head. You might not believe this, but if you haven't come in the emergency room yesterday, I think you’d have died. You're damn lucky you didn't lose your vision or your kidneys over the attack."

"I don't think that I would have died. I haven't died yet, but I do want to say thank you for coming to the ER yesterday." He looked down for a minute, before he said, "I didn't want to hurt anyone, and they were overwhelming me. But I’m better today. All well now and I am more than ready to go home."

"You're better because your blood pressure’s down. Your nose was bleeding for heaven's sake, and you were about to stroke out. And after I talked to Felicity, I knew you were going to have a problem in the ER, that your PTSD was going to get the better of you.”

He growled as she said the letters.

“Now, I know you’re not going to like this but I want you to face this, I'm not ready to release you. I want you to take a couple more tests, a stress test for one."

"No, release me, Mae. I'll come back for the tests. But today is first soccer practice, and I need to meet my team. I can't look weak to them." He could feel the panic starting, and he forced himself to go on. He had to convince her, had to stay in control.

"And canceling would make me look weak.”

“I don’t agree with you.”

“But the team’s already going to know I was in the hospital and that’s bad enough. I promise we’re not going to practice today. All of them need shoes and practice clothes to play soccer. It's a good thing Warren still has money in that grant because putting 20 teens in running shoes alone is going to cost a small fortune, so real practice won't start until next week."

"Then you don't have to be there."

Well that had backfired. He grimaced.

"But?"

"But nothing. You're not going to be there. You need to call Ned and have him meet the team and have him send them for shoes and clothes. I’m not ready to cut you loose yet. I still don't know what happened to you, so you need to give me more time.”

“I’ve given you almost 24 hours.”

“It’s not enough and I want to start you on a blood pressure medication and monitor you for at least 24 hours to see how it is working to make sure you aren't having a reaction to it."

"I'm too young to be on blood pressure medication. I don't want that." His heart started to pound. His breath becoming short gasps again.

He couldn't stay here. Anywhere but here.

"Breath deeper. I see your fighting your anxiety right now. Do you want me to give you shot?”

“No, I don’t want a shot.” How dare she offer to give him a shot.

“How about a chill pill?”

“NO.”

“Then calm down. Did you like how you felt yesterday?”

“No.”

“Right answer, now do you want to live? If so, you need to understand that I don't know why your body isn't working correctly. And give me a little more time to figure it out."

"I can't stay another night." Now he worried she truly wasn't going to release him today. Jesus, he was going to have to sleep, and his stomach was starting to get a bad feeling.

"Just say it, you can't sleep here. You haven't slept since you have been here. And if you stay you'll dream. Right? You wake up screaming won't you? You need help. I’m going to refer you to a friend of mine. You need to talk to him. Let him help you."

"No. I don’t want to talk about it. And I darn sure don’t want to talk to a stranger about my issues."

"Why not? You need to try. Let me introduce you to Riley. If you don't want to talk to a stranger, then get to know him. He could help you. I could help you, if you’d let me. And Riley has been through the wringer himself. I think you’d like him."

"No."

"You need stop being stubborn and understand what happened yesterday wasn't a fluke. Your body failed to regulate your blood pressure. It can happen again at any time. I could release you, and you could be right back in the ER this evening. Do you want that? And what if I'm not here next time? What if they sedate you next time?"

That stopped him cold, for he understood Felicity would call 911 again on him, since she wanted him to live. But the idea of staying the night caused his heart to race, caused his anxiety to kick up.

"Release me or I'll walk out. Mae, I'm leaving. I can't stay here. Too many people are watching. This is too small of a town. Look, I want to coach and my team already knows too much about me."

"That's the way it is in small towns. Gossip makes the world go round."

His voice darkened. "Not in my world. I can't STAY another night. My blood pressure’s better now, and I’m under control. Mae, I can't look weak to my team. I stayed one night. Now, you’re going to release me, and I AM going to practice."

Mae gave him a look that said she understood, and then she shook her head, as she pointed her finger at him. "Oliver, that's a really good threatening voice you have there. I can tell you’ve practiced it, but, as a mother I have one too. NO, I'm NOT releasing you. And, I BURIED my son, and I know for sure Felicity doesn't want to bury you.”

“I am . . .”

“Did I say you could talk? Thought not. Now you are staying another night and giving me enough time to get your blood pressure under control because the next time it spikes you might not be so lucky. And you are going to go on blood pressure meds and are going to come and see me in the office for checkups. Do we understand each other?"

"I'm too young for this."

"No, you're not. Not with your PTSD and your stress levels. Now, I'm going to start you tomorrow on a blood pressure medicine called prazosin. And I want you to take your first dose in controlled atmosphere to see how you tolerate the medication. It could make you pass out and if you are going to do that, I would prefer you do it here."

"Now, I really don't want to take it."

"Hopefully, you won't even notice it and one of the nice things it is supposed to do, is treat anxiety and some studies had seen success in treating nightmares in PTSD patients."

"I don't believe a pill could make my dreams go away."

If only it could be that easy, he thought.

"Well, at least give it a chance. You'll need to take it a few weeks for it to start to work on the nightmares. Regardless, I’m not releasing you, but I will knock you out tonight. I'll sedate you so deeply you can't dream. Now you need to deal with the fact you're staying, and call Ned because you're staying until I figure out what is wrong with you."

"I could just walk out."

"Yes, you could, but I hear your sister’s here, and I would bet between Felicity and her, they’d haul you back."

Now, he frowned.

"All right, with that out of the way. Tell me how many days since you have slept? The truth, please! I can't help you if you don't tell the truth!"

He felt like Raisa had just scolded him for stealing cookies, and he said quietly, "I don't know. Over a week. A long time. I did sleep five hours the other day." He hung his head, before he added, "My .  .  .”

“Go on.”

“My dreams wake me up. I’ve slept maybe three or four hours a night. Some nights probably more like two."

She nodded at him. "Thank you for the truth. I’m wondering if your not sleeping could have triggered the high blood pressure problems? Hmm? That's a lot of time on your hands. What have you been doing with yourself? I know you don't watch TV."

He said a little sheepishly, "Kicking a soccer ball up and down the beach. I'm getting a lot better at controlling the ball. And, Mae, why your husband chose soccer is beyond me."

And Mae gave a small laugh, as she stood and softly patted his arm before she said, "Me too. But, if nothing else, you're being productive. Now, I'm not going to lose you. And like it or not, you're going to let me help you. I want you to live to marry Felicity, to have children and to have a life together. And to do that you have to take blood pressure medicine." And her green eyes looked straight into his.

And it was almost like he could see her soul.

And Mae's soul was bleeding, weeping blood. She was still clearly mourning her son.

Her soulful look swept him away. Yes, she was still mourning her son, but who could blame her? Losing a child had to be one of the worst things that could happen to a person. His mother had certainly tried to make him understand that fact.

"Okay. I'll take the pill."

And then she smiled slightly and turned and walked away.

#####OQ#####

Felicity returned and ask, "Has Mae been in?"

"Yeah, she's making me stay another night, so she can monitor my reaction to a new blood pressure medicine that she says might help my nightmares. Can I use your phone? I need to call Ned. It looks like I'm not going to practice."

"You're not going to practice? Really?" And she hugged him, and smiled, as she kissed him soundly, pulling away too soon.

"Wow, what was that for?"

"For choosing life, and for choosing us." Then she leaned her forehead against his and said simply, "I love you."

"I love you too, but I want you to go home. You and Thea go get some takeout and have a girl's night."

She pulled her head away from him and said, "Thea came to see you not me. And I don't know what to talk to her about. I don't know what you don't want her to know. And if you are going to sleep, I'm staying here."

"No, go home. Get some rest. And tell her anything you want, Felicity. I'm trying to be truthful with her. She knows a lot of my secrets already. So, share whatever you want."

"Truly? That's wonderful. I would really like to be friends with Thea, but not being able to tell her the truth makes it hard. But I thought you wanted me to sleep with you if you stayed?"

The smile she gave him gave him a lot of ideas, but none of which, he could act on right now. "I want you two to be friends. But, Mae’s going to put me to sleep, and I guess I need the rest. And there’s no way, I can get any rest with you in that bed with me."

"You're going to let Mae put you to sleep? Really, first you tell me I can tell Thea anything, and now you are going to sleep willingly. Who are you and what have you done with Oliver?"

He grinned before he said, "Very funny. And I mean it, go home because you are not sleeping with me."

"Raincheck then?" The smile she gave him ignited his very blood.

"For sure."

"But, if you're not leaving then I'm not leaving." And she winked at him.

"Okay," he said, barely keeping himself in check, as she reached for his hand, and he was glad she was staying, staying with him.

#####OQ#####

"Are you allergic to eggs, Oliver?"

"No."

"Good."

Mae reached for his IV and inserted the needle. For just a second he reached out and stilled her hand, and then he said, "No one touches me when I'm asleep, Mae. It's not a good idea."

"Of course it isn’t." She injected the medicine, and he was already starting to feel lightheaded. Suddenly, he wanted to stop this.

"Wait, you're sure I won't dream?"

"No dreams, just nice restful sleep." Mae assured him.

"Felicity?" He was losing consciousness, and he didn't want this, since he knew the dark waited and only bad things were in the dark. Panic rose, choking him.

"Shh, I'm right here, Oliver. Don't worry, just rest." He felt her take his hand, and he calmed down, just felt her hand.

"I'm here too," said Thea, grasping his other hand. "Go to sleep, Ollie. It's going to be okay."

"I've heard that before and it’s never okay, trust me."

"My brother the pessimism."

"I'm a realist." And the darkness sucked him down.

#####OQ#####

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Warning Oliver is dreaming again.

#####OQ#####

Thea settled into the chair beside Oliver's hospital bed, before she said, "I knew he had problems when he came back, but I never knew he was so messed up."

Felicity plugged her tablet into the charger and placed it on the window sill. "He hides it well, wears a mask. Normally his self control's like iron. But something about his time at the league changed something in him."

"Once when he first came back from the dead, I walked in on him and saw his chest. He has a lot of scars. And he was angry that I saw them, that I knew."

"He thinks he's damaged because of his scars. And there are more on his back. More than one, Thea. A lot more than one."

"What really happened to him while he was on that island? Please don't keep things from me. I'm grown up. I can take it."

"I know that you are but I, honestly, don't know, except he wasn't always on the island. I know he was in China and then in Russia for some time. But mainly, he refuses to talk about what happened. I get a hint here and there. But he's a mystery for sure."

"But what caused his PTSD? He came back from the island, so intense, and I can see now that he had PTSD. And yes, I looked it up on my phone and he act like the examples they listed."

"Again I don't know. I do know whatever those people did to him, haunts him when he sleeps. And I know he doesn't sleep enough. Thea, you wouldn't believe how little sleep he survives on."

"Come to think about it, I've heard him have nightmares once or twice."

"He's been tortured more than once. People have hurt him, and I mean really hurt him."

"How could they do that? Why would they do that?"

"I don't know but the world can be a cruel place. You of all people should know that."

"Touche. Yeah, Ra's running me through with a sword to blackmail my brother is a bit of an example, huh?  It wouldn't be too far of a stretch that the league tortured him, look at how dark he became during his Al Sah-him days."

She checked the charge on her tablet and picked up her phone to check the time. "How true. And he refuses to talk about his time there, but he's been worse since his time with the league. I think some days that they woke the demons inside him, though since I have only slept with him the last six months, I truly don't know if he was like this before the league. But my money would be on yes," as she made air quotes with her fingers before she said, "since he's  changed."

"Changed?"

"Yes, darker, moodier and angry, though he hides it."

"Oliver moody? Angry? Never." Thea waved her hand dramatically dismissing her words. 

And they both laughed. And so their conversation went for a couple hours, as he slept peacefully on,and she enjoyed talking to the woman who was Thea. 

A new nurse arrived and hung a new bag.

"Is that another dose." Thea looked concerned as she checked her watch. "So soon?"

"Mae wants him to stay down, and with this drug, even if he does dream then he won't remember it." The nurse became to check his blood pressure.

"What?" Her heart sped up, her brain working. "You mean he can still dream?" She almost stuttered.

"Yes, but he won't remember it. He could be somewhat conscious and dream, but he won't know it tomorrow. But Mae doesn't want him to dream, which is why she has ordered him another dose around two, so I'll be back."

Oh, frack, she thought.

"Why the look?" Asked Thea after the nurse left.

"Oliver didn't want to sleep here because he didn't want to wake up screaming. He doesn't want his team to know."

"To know what?"

"How bad his PTSD is. Thea, your brother doesn't have nightmares, he has night terrors. The kind where he's fighting for his life. The kind where you had better not touch him or he'll hurt you. And I think, he's had these dreams almost constantly ever since I met him."

Thea looked at her and said, "I knew he had nightmares, but I didn't know they were that bad. Felicity, I'm so glad you love him. He needs someone you know? His life's been hard. And lately he's been happy and that's because of you. I'm thankful you love him. He needs you, Felicity. "

"And I need him, and I'm glad he loves me too."

"So when are you two getting married? What kind of wedding do you want?" Thea's smile was so real.

"I'd elope, so my mother wouldn't be there, but Oliver wants a real wedding. He wants you there, Thea. He wants John there. And I can't deprive him of what he wants. So what do you think? I'm open to ideas."

Thea's smile brightened the room and they began to talk wedding plans until the night became late.

Thea yawned and stretched. "I done for. I'm going to the motel. Sure you don't want to come and get some rest too?"

"Na, I promised him I'd stay, so I will."

Thea hugged her before she left and then Felicity curled up on the bench that turned into a small cot. One of the nurses had found her sheets, a blanket and a pillow, and exhausted she finally managed to find sleep with her hand on his hand.

#####OQ#####

He stared at the chains and shackles laying on the dirty floor beside the bench he sat on in a large smokey warehouse where men had set up the ring. 

After almost killing Hedeon and attempting escape twice now, none of his guards trusted him anymore. Not that he blamed them, for like an wild animal, he constantly thought about escaping, about finding a way out of his situation.

Now his guards always moved him in chains, carefully, since they weren't going to give him another chance at escape. 

And they had proved it to him more than once, he glanced over his shoulder and eyed Luke, who lifted his chin at him clearly daring him.

But he knew ff he resisted, one or more of his six guards would taser him, and he would be hanging from the ceiling again, screaming under Hedeon's knife, who wouldn't stop until he finally screamed.  

It was a stupid power struggle since he always lost and screamed but dening the man gave him something to focus on, and maybe someday Hedeon would slip and he'd die.

And he'd be in the ground instead of back in the cage.

 A place he never want to go. 

Yes, he'd tried resisting already, and all it had earned him was a good beating, another round under Hedeon's knife and more time in the cage. 

Even now he'd barely healed from that round.

He didn't need another.

Which left him no choice but to fight like his life depended on it, because it did.

He'd lost count in the last few weeks of the fights Hedeon had arranged for him. So far he'd won, though a couple of times he'd almost lost and his body had taken more than one beating. Bruises covered his body and his kidneys were sore. His hands hurt the most though, for this was bare knuckle fighting, and he had no protection for his hands.

None at all.  He flexed his aching hands.

They were painful and stiff.

His knuckles bruised and busted up from hitting the bone in men's faces making his hands hurt just to close them, hurt to use them, let alone to punch someone. 

He swore to himself if he ever got out of this situation he would wear gloves whenever he fought.

Taking great gulps of air, he pumped himself up before he got into the ring, before he had to fight. 

Cold and tired, this was his second fight tonight but losing this fight wasn't an option.

No, he couldn't afford to lose.

His chest still a raging hurting ache that reminded him with every beat of his heart, a nasty throb that made him aware his life equaled pain. It just depended on how sharp the dragon's claws were today. 

And today them were damn sharp.

His back barely healed now still ached bitterly, so, no matter what, he couldn't lose and be back under Hedeon's blade opening up his aching wounds up again.

"You're up, Oliver. Get up nice and easy now." Luke ordered him.

He stood as they surrounded him and as a group they walked over to ring side.

Watching the other man remove his shirt, he toyed with the idea of pulling his own shirt off and baring his own chest. He hated fight with his shirt on. Yet, he knew if he did that, his opponent would go straight for his chest wound, would target his injury.

No way, that the man wouldn't go right for the bandage on his chest, and would effectively use his injury to cripple him, to take him out. 

He targeted other men's injuries. If he found a weakness in a man, he quickly used it against him. 

Favor a leg or limp and he took out the man's leg. 

Hold back that punch and he would target the man's arm or shoulder. 

Dance away and he viciously attacked, for he knew the man really didn't want to fight. And he always finished his opponents quickly. 

He did what had to be done because he didn't have a choice. 

And no, this wasn't fair fighting. No, this was dirty, cut throat, kill you, to the death fighting. Killing in this ring happened. He'd already done it, and there were no rules to be broken here.

Just last week he'd snapped his opponent's neck. He had not intended the death blow and had not wanted to kill the man.

But, he'd killed, again. 

The animal in him controlled and the human part of him disappeared when he stepped into the ring.

And a couple good shots to his chest and this fight would be over, and Hedeon would cut him again. He could tell as Hedeon watched him while he trained, and he played with his knife, and he could tell the man was aching to have another go at him.

And he couldn't let that happen.

But that didn't mean he wasn't an animal caught in a cage, and he couldn't even chew his foot off to escape. 

Because he would if he could. He would do whatever was needed to be done to escape this situation. 

He had started to become hyper aware of his situation at all times, looking for a way out. He'd even pondered throwing a fight and hoping that one of his opponents would kill him. 

But, he feared Hedeon would have the useless referee stop the fight, and then he would not just be beat up, no, he would be back under Hedeon's knife. For he was sure that the man wasn't done playing with him, toying with him, cutting him.

So he embraced the animal and his pain, his rage, his black fury that was so intense he really didn't care anymore. 

As the weeks had passed, he lost even the hope of escape. He had no hope of escape, no hope for a future, and all he possessed was the pain, the living, raging, and all consuming pain that reminded him with every breath, that his life was crap.

Pain was all he knew now, so he embrace his pain, pulled it close to him,  embraced the constant pain that was his life. He had begun to feed from it, need it, and he pushed himself hard to train and reached for it. The pain was all he had now.

Yes, he had become an animal. He was ruthless, heartless, possessing no mercy when he fought because losing wasn't an option. 

Eyeing the man he was about to fight, he watched the shirtless man climb into the ring. 

Again he toyed with the idea of taking off his shirt, since he knew keeping his shirt on, added to the danger of losing the fight.

His shirt was a way to hold on to him, to keep him from putting enough distance between him and his opponent to use his legs effectively. But to have the man he fought target his chest or his back, no, he had to leave his shirt on.

His opponent, a large bald man wore the tattoo of the Russian Mafia on his chest and an idea hit him.

Climbing into the ring, he raised his up fists up, ignoring the pain in both of his hands. He danced around the large man and avoided his clumsy punches, as he said, "My name's Oliver Queen. I want you to remember my name."

And then he slapped the man hard in the face, open handed, his own hand stinging from the blow.

The man shook the slap off, with the words, "Why would I want to do that? You're just another guy's ass I'm going to kick." 

The man lunged toward him, as he sidestepped, and he thumped the man on the back of his head as he past by.

The crowd laughed and yelled.

The man turned rapidly for one so big and he motioned him toward him. "Come on. Oliver Queen. You need to remember my name because it's going to save your life." And he jumped and kicked the man in the face, blooding his lip.

The man spit blood on the mat and growled the words, "Sure of yourself, aren't you, kid? I'm going to beat you down."

"Oliver Queen, remember my name." He sidestepped the man's punch again and jumped up and kicked him in the chest, pushing him hard into the ropes.

The man shook it off, roared and attacked him.

Blocking his punch with his forearm, he punched him in the stomach and then grabbed the man's head and brought his knee up to smash his face, his nose breaking. 

The man went down, and he grabbed him in a choke hold, with his left forearm, while using the other hand to pull the man's right arm behind his back at a sharp angle, a very painful angle, as he hissed in the man's ear, "Take a message for me, and I'll let you live."

"What?" The man said with a gasp.

"Do you want to live?"

Pressing harder on the man's throat, he knew he was choking him, restricting his air flow, as the man croaked out the word, "Yes."

"Find Anatoly Knyazev and tell him that Oliver Queen is ready to be a Captain. Give him my message. Tell him where you saw me. Tell him to come for me."

"What did you say?"

"I am Bratva. We are brothers. My name is Oliver Queen. Anatoly Knyazev will understand. What is my name?" He pulled harder on his arm, almost popping his elbow from its socket and making the man scream.

"Oliver Queen."

"Again and trust me, I will find you some day and either thank you or kill you slowly. My name?"

"Oliver Queen."

The man screamed louder, as he pulled his arm at a sharp painful angle, before he said, "Who do you tell my name to?"

"Anatoly Knyazev."

"Swear you will tell him my name."

"I swear it."

"And this is something to remember me by."

Then he dislocated the man's arm with a loud pop, as the man howled, but he released him just before he killed him, and said his name, with the words, "Remember me," just before he stopped choking him to death, giving him a sharp blow to the head and dropping him lifeless to the mat.

Rising from the mat, the useless referee, held his arm up, proclaiming him the winner. Giving the crowd a good show, he raised both arms, jumping up and down, but he was aware that Hedeon wasn't smiling.

The match over, he chugged water and then sat back down on the bench, hoping the fighting was over, as the adrenaline faded and the fatigue set in.

"Drink up. You're scheduled for the next fight," said Luke.

"No, I can't be. I've already fought two." He was past tired. 

After the rush came the exhaustion. Another fight would be too dangerous for him. His stomach bottomed out, as he knew he was about to possibly get beat up, that he could lose if Hereon put him back in the ring again.

"Sucks to be you, but you either get back in the ring or you know."

Sighing deeply, he stood.

For, yes, he knew if he didn't get in the ring, they would taser him, and Hedeon would punish him, cut him again. At least if he fought, he had somewhat of a chance to avoid the knife.

He drug his feet, as he walked back to the ring. Taking deep breaths, he tried to pump himself back up.

Forcing himself, he climbed into the ring. He circled the large man, trying to buy time, trying to find his strength, for he was so tired, and panic was making his heart race. 

He needed more time to recover.

But the large man wasn't going to give him more time. No, he didn't wait. Instead he attacked him. He rushed him and drove him back against the ropes, knocking the wind out of him with several blows to his chest. Grabbing his shirt, he use it to pull him against his chest, so he could punch him in his back on the left side.

It was as if this man knew what Hedeon did to his people.

But his painful H was on the right side, thanks to the tattoo that Slade had put on his back to honor Shado and to shame him.

Someday, he promised himself he would have it removed, but he had to survive this fight first. He tried to throw the man away from him, but this man was really strong and was using his shirt against him, holding on to him. 

Kneeing the man in the balls, he wrenched away, as he spun on his heel and punched the man hard in the kidneys, then in the nose, making his blood fly.

 He couldn't afford to draw this fight out, for he needed it over now.

The man roared and he managed to toss him away from him. He tried to catch his breath, as exhaustion hovered and weakness threatened. Stumping, he caught himself and the crowded roared.

The man rolled across the mat, then stood and backed off a little but then put his fists back up and motioned for him to come closer.

"Come on fight me. And why don't you take your shirt off?" The man questioned, as he just barely managed to block the man's punch. 

He was scarcely holding on here, as the man said, "You hiding something under that shirt, boy? Hedeon said you had a couple of knife wounds. And I'm going to find them. Your winning streak is over. I'm taking you down."

Pure rage swept through him. Hedeon was setting him up to lose. His blood  pumped in his ears. The roar of the crowd went away.

Dancing out of range, he couldn't help from falling back, as the man abruptly rushed him, pushing him backwards into the ropes. 

The man punched his chest, and he had a hold on his shirt, pulling him to him, as he pinned him between his body and the ropes. 

Arms from outside the ring grabbed him, trapping him against the ropes, holding him, ensnaring his arms with what felt like bands of steel.

From out of the blue, the man in the ring, punched him right where his chest wound was, and he saw white light. He screamed out and almost crumbled from the intense pain of the man's fist slamming against his still healing chest wound.

Again, and again the man punched him in the chest and his friend, who held him, punched him repeatedly, this time on the right side of his back, right on the center of his H mark.

Between the two of them, the pain that coursed through him was blinding, seething. 

And, his rage was like a wild beast. 

Hedeon was playing dirty. 

How dare Hedeon tell his opponent how to best him? How dare they double team him and then use his injuries to put him down?

Roaring, he broke free of the man's arms. But the man outside the ring, grabbed him again, ripping his shirt, as he tried to twist away from the two of them. But both men used his shirt to haul him back, to jerk him back to them.

 The two of them were giving him a real beating. He was barely holding on, as he screamed and tried to fight back, but he was losing.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins now, he cried out in pure rage, as he reached and grabbed the man from behind him by his hair and an arm, and from somewhere, he found the strength to flip the man deftly over his shoulder, throwing the man solidly into the ring at the other man, and of course, his shirt ripped smooth off him, baring his chest.

Both men tumbled to the ring's mat in a flailing of arms and legs. The smaller man was the first to get up, and he barely caught the man's foot before it connected with the bandage on his chest.

Pulling the man's foot and twisting, he jerked him off his feet and then spun the entire man's body and dropped him to the mat, stomping him hard between the legs, effectively leaving him to groan, clutching himself on the mat. 

Now the other man jumped on his back, punching his sore flesh, and the pain exploded, sliced through him.

Furious, ice cold rage flowing through his veins, he jumped up and fell backwards, slamming the man onto the mat with his body, as he felt the air rush out of both his and the other man's lungs. 

Elbowing the man in the gut, he flipped over. He couldn't breathe but hands clenched, he attacked the man, who was fighting back.

Wrestling him back to the mat, with a roar, he sat on the man's chest, as he hit him again and again. 

Blood flew like rain, his bloody hands feeding his black rage, until other hands pulled him off, and two men, no three, maybe four drug him away and hollered his name.

And he was fighting them too. Managing to get his arm free, he succeeded in dropping the man on his left.

The sting of a needle in his neck, brought pure panic, for he knew what was going to happen next, so he was still fighting them, when he fell into the darkness.

#####OQ#####

He was chained when he opened his eyes, and even though he was chained, he was thankful the dart had just put him down, that at least he could move and it wasn't curare this time. 

He gave small thanks that he could at least open his eyes, that he could at least move somewhat, even if he was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists and his legs were chained too, he was thankful it wasn't curare and he wasn't in the dark, while this happened.

Someone slapped him, and he knew that someone was Hedeon because the man couldn't hit very hard.

The cold crept into his skin and his shirt was gone. 

He tested the chains but they were tight. 

Tight and strong, they limited his movements. Hedeon intended to stop him from ending his life, stop him from leaning into the blade.

"There you are. Awake now? You disappointed me again tonight, Oliver." Hedeon fingered his blade. "What did I tell you I was going to do to you if you disappointed me?"

His hand reached to rip the bandage from his chest. He clamped his teeth together, as Hedeon's blade lashed out, slowly cutting his chest.

He almost screamed, but he suppressed it, barely, as he screamed the words, "No, I won. Damn you, I WON. You cheated me, and I still won. You don't get to cut me!"

"But, I do."

He grabbed him by his hair, pulling hard, as he looked him in the eyes. "You were supposed to lose, Oliver. Why do you think I told your opponent where to hit you in the chest, in the back? I bet against you. Your job was to lose."

Releasing his head, Hedeon made him grit his teeth again, as the man used his knife and slowly opened up his chest. Making him growl, the man re-cut the barely healed spot on his chest, and he could smell the now familiar copper scent, could feel his blood running down his bare stomach.

His spit flew, as he screamed and fought the chains. "You bet against me!"

"I did."

Another cut and he breathed through it.

"Dam you to hell. You set me up to lose. You told them right where to hit me. I'm going to kill you. I swear it."

"So you keep saying. And once again that animal that's in you came out, and I had to put you down."

"You're the animal."

"Well, I'll admit I underestimated you. I never thought you would win, not against the two of them, on your third fight of the night. I admit you're strong. And I had a lot of money riding against you. You've won every time, so do you know what the odds where if you lost?"

"You did this so you could cut me." The understanding flooded his brain. "You wanted me to lose, so you could cut me."

The darkness inside him grew, and he fought fight the chains that gave no quarter. "No matter what happened you were going to cut me."

He screamed and fought the chains.

"You're the smart one sometimes. And you're right the holiday's are coming, and you can take a hiatus from the fights. So, yes, if you lost I got to cut you, and if you won, you cost me a lot of money, which you did by the way. So that means you and I are going to spend a lot of time together since you are deeper in debt to me after tonight."

And the man moved to his back and the pain rushed through him as the blade slowly re-cut the H, and he couldn't stop himself, he screamed.

"Now ask for it, Oliver. And ask nicely."

#####OQ#####

"Come on, Oliver, stay with me. Just let me get the IV in. You need a transfusion."

"No, IV this time. I don't want a transfusion." He fought Mike's hands, but weak  he was losing.

"Don't make me tie you up. Stop fighting me. You're bleeding out here."

"That's the plan. Let me. He cheated me. I won the fight and he still cut me. LET ME DIE." He shoved the hands away.

"I told you he'd cheat, now be still. Your chest's a mess."

"Just tie him up. He's not going to listen. He never does, and I'm tired of fighting him," Ivan said.

"No, don't tie me up." He pushed them away." Just punch me. Someone knock me out before you stitch me."

"Oliver, help me here. I don't have much time to get you stitched up and get some blood in you."

"Why Mike? Why?" But he already knew and his heart slammed against his aching chest. "How many days? How many days in the cage? I'm not going back in the cage. I'm not."

He couldn't breathe. His stomach bottomed out. He fought them now, and they held him down.

Mike grabbed his chin and looked him in the eyes. "I don't know, but if you don't help me here you won't live to find out. I've got to stitch your chest, get some blood in you, and I don't have much time."

"NO!"

 "Hold him down."

"No, don't close my chest up." Again he tried to push their hands away.

"Let me die, damn you all. I hate all of you for doing this to me. Just stop helping me." The hands held him now, tying him to the bed, and too many hands were touching him, and the sharp sting of the needle pulled his bleeding flesh back together again.

The dragon returned roaring fire into the wound on his chest.

"Shit, Oliver."

Blissfully, Mike gave him an uppercut and knocked him out. 

But when he woke up he knew, and he swallowed hard to control his emotions, trying to hold on to his sanity, as he lay on the wire on his side in the small cage in the dark.

He not just in the cage, but in his mind snapped as he hoped to die. Blackness engulf him, as he kicked the walls of the cage, welcoming the pain that raged through him, embracing the pain, needing the pain, as he screamed out his rage, his black fury.

And, he just kept kicking, no matter how much it hurt. He was going to use the cage to make him stronger, to make his legs stronger, to be stronger. Hedeon was dead the next time he put him in the ring. He was going to snap his neck or die trying. 

Yes, the next time they let him out one of them was dying.

#####OQ#####

Felicity jerked awake, as the nurse opened the door and said, "Oliver? What's going on with you? The tech just called and said your heart's racing off the charts. And you shouldn't even be awake. Didn't you get your 2 a.m. dose?"

The woman headed toward the bed, but Felicity stood and got between her and him. "No he didn't, and I don't think he's awake. Don't try to touch him."

He moved, thrashing about and kicking the covers.

"Move, he's trying to pull his IV out. I need to stop him."

"Let him. Don't touch him."

He suddenly sat straight up in the bed. Gasping, in a smooth motion, he yanked the IV out of his arm and slung it to the floor, while his hand moved to touch his chest and then he looked at his hand. As she watched, she had the distinct feeling he looked for blood, that he saw blood, his blood on his hand.

"Oliver, it's not real. You're not there. Listen to my voice. You're in the hospital."

"I need to put that IV back in."

"You  need to give me a minute and let me talk to him, first. Give him a minute to wake up. I don't think he's really here."

But the nurse moved toward him, so she got between him and the woman. "No, don't try to touch him. Just stay back. I don't think he is really awake."

And even in the low light she could see that his eyes were wild, that he wasn't  here.

"You're in the hospital, Oliver. You're not there. Listen to me. You need to try to breathe deeper. Smell me, Oliver. I'm right here."

The door came flying open, and in ran another nurse, with the words, "Tech called again and said his heart rate is way too fast. He's worried he's going to arrest."

Felicity said, "Just hold it right there. You too, back away from him. Don't try to touch him. He's dreaming."

Yes, he wasn't here, she was sure of it, he was where ever the horror was in his mind. But he needed to wake up, so looking around, she grabbed her pillow and threw it at him, as she hollered his name.

He fought the pillow for an instant, then inhaled deeply and slung the pillow back at her forcing her to duck and the nurses to scatter.

"Felicity?"

"Right here. You're in the hospital. Look around."

He was shaking his head as he said, "I'm groggy, can't wake up."

"Can I touch you?"

"No, give me a minute." He scrubbed his face with his hands.

She waited then ask, "Now?"

"Yeah."

And she went to him, and he enfolded her in his arms. "You're okay. You're awake now. And as normal, you're so sweaty."

"I need to put the IV back in. And you missed your dose."

"No IV. I'm done, and no more drugs."

"But Oliver, Mae said." The nurse made an ugly face.

"And I said, no more. Call Mae and tell on me if you want, but you are not putting that IV back in my arm." His voice was pure Arrow, or more like the Hood.

"Thank you ladies, but I'm sure it will be alright for a few hours. Could you give us a few minutes?" she asked the nurses. "He's fine now."

"I mean it, Felicity. No more sedation, not again, probably not ever."

"Okay, Oliver. We'll just lay here a little while and try to rest."

#####OQ#####

Hours later, he paced. "Felicity, I want released and I wanted released now. I took that stupid small white blood pressure pill Mae handed me over five hours ago."

"Inanimate objects can't be stupid. And how are you feeling?"

He felt like crap but he'd never admit it. "I'm . . . doing okay. No side effects. I want released."

"Good choice, you know I hate that word."

"I've done the stress test. Why's Mae holding me here?"

And he felt exhausted but no way would he admit it. He just wanted to go home.

"You're cranky, Oliver." Felicity looked up from her tablet.

"Damn right, I'm cranky. Enough is enough, Mae had better release me and soon."

"I'm going to get coffee. Forget I said that since you can't have any. Thea just texted to say she'll be back soon. Maybe, she'll cheer you up." And she quit the room, as he frowned after her.

Felicity still hadn't returned when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes." He growled the word.

"Oliver Queen?"

Oliver turned from the window and took in the large stocky man who opened the door and stood in the entryway in pair of shorts that showed his two prosthetic legs, one started below the knee and the other disappeared under his shorts. 

The man had lost both legs but still stood before him upright. 

Walking toward him in battered tennis shoes, he looked at the man's face, taking in the jagged scar that ran across his left cheek, as he noted a piece of his left ear was also missing.

"Hi, I'm Riley Clark." He offered his hand. "Mae asked me to stop by and meet you. She thought you and I might hit it off."

Shocked, as the man walked easily toward him, he still managed to stick out his hand, surprised to find the man had a firm grip. 

He succeeded in getting the words out, "Of course she did."

"I know this is awkward, Oliver. Can I call you, Oliver? I realize it takes a little time to get used to my legs, to the scar on my face. Believe me it took me some time. Years really and I'm still struggling some days."

"IED? And yes, you can call me Oliver."

"Landmine in Afghanistan."

"How long ago?"

"Almost ten years. But you're right it's still an IED. And I'm just lucky that IED's have really advanced prosthetic limb development, or I would still be in a wheel chair. Over 1,800 soldiers have lost a limb to an IED in the last ten years."

"I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I guess with so many of us needing them that it was time for better artificial limbs. These work pretty well and these legs work a lot better than my first set or any of my other sets. I'm up to running three miles a day now."

"You can run?"

"Took me a while, but yes, I can on blades. I hear you're also a runner. Maybe we could run together one day in the near future?"

He didn't know what to say other than nod his head and agree.

"Oliver, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch together, get to know each other. And I always feel like I'm in AA when I say this, but I'm a blunt man, so here goes. Hi, I'm Riley Clark, and I have Chronic PTSD."

"You have," he forced himself to say the letters, "PTSD?" For there was no way the word chronic was coming out of his mouth.

"Well, of course, I do. I got my legs blown off. It didn't make for a fun experience. Sorry, I told you I was blunt, but that's the way I cope with my situation. Well anyway, Mae called me and just asked me to drop by and meet you. Be the welcome wagon, kind of thing, since you are new in town."

"Well, thanks for the welcome. Sure let's get together and have lunch someday soon." Like that was going to happen, he thought, not that the man didn't seem alright, but he wasn't one for making new friends.

"Awesome and then maybe, after you get to know me better, you might consider coming and visiting me at the office."

"The office?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I should tell you that Mae has referred you and a Miss Felicity Smoak to my office."

"Your office?"

"Mae hasn't spoken to you about this yet? Has she?"

"No. What exactly do you do?" His temper at Mae and high handedness surfaced as his gut tightened.

"I'm a therapist. And most of my patients have Chronic PTSD. After I lost my legs, I went back to school and got my degree. I wanted to help control my nightmares, control my flashbacks, and have a better quality of life."

The panic crept in as his stomach dropped and his chest tightened. Distrust and the feeling he was being set up filled him, but he still ask, "Did you?"

"Yes, and I found that I'm good at helping people like me, probably because I understand what my patients go through every day and every night. And I can help them cope with their symptoms, give them more control, help them stay in their relationships. PTSD is hard on relationships."

His skin felt too tight, and he forced himself to smile and nod, so he didn't look like an idiot. Reaching into his pocket, he touched her hair tie, knowing he worried Felicity would wake up one day and see the real him and leave him alone.

"Plus, I understand that it's hard to talk about our problems and experiences. I know I don't want to retell losing my legs. So I work with a therapy that is called eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, EMDR if you like, where the patient doesn't have to talk about what happened to them, doesn't have to talk about the events that caused their PTSD."

"They don't have to talk about what happened to them? I thought that was what all therapists wanted to do was talk." He was clarifying not considering, he told himself.

"Only if they want to talk do we talk about their experiences. But sometimes what happened is too painful for the patient to put into words. Now, are you free, say next Tuesday, for lunch?"

"I'll have to check my schedule and get back to you."

He knew darn good and well he was free, but he also wasn't ready for this. Mae wasn't playing fair here.

Digging in his pocket, Riley came up with a card and handed it to him with the words, "Think if over and give me a call."

Then Riley lifted a hand, gave a wave and started to walk away, and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Do your patients get better?"

He turned and looked him in the eye and said, "Some of them do. But those patients are like me learning to use these legs. I had to have real courage. The wheelchair was easier than the legs. But most people tend to do what is easier."

"Yes, they do."

"So, I had to commit to treatment, had to want to be better, even when it hurt, and I had to be willing to try and take that hard first step. I also had to be willing to fall down a few times too, for I didn't learn to walk overnight." 

He shook his head. "And I think a lot of my patients look me and think well at least I still have my legs. And, yeah, I'm blunt. Call me, Oliver. No pressure, just lunch."

Then, Riley quit the room, leaving him wondering if he had the courage to try to get better, because, yes, he still had his legs.

Damn, Mae, didn't play fair at all. 

No, not at all.

#####OQ#####

 

 

And as always, thanks for the read.

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

#####OQ#####

Here's your prescription. And you can stop with the ugly face, Oliver. You've already agreed to take them so don't sulk."

"I'm not sulking, Mae." He said knowing he was probably lying, as he snatched the piece of paper from her hand.

"Would you prefer brooding?" Felicity asked smugly but she gave him a wink.

"Oliver brooding? Never," said Thea grinning.

And he frowned at her and then shook his head. "What I prefer doesn't seem to matter, anymore."

"And buy a blood pressure cuff. They sell a machine at the super store that's pretty easy. Felicity, it's really important to take his blood pressure several times a day right now. And make sure his feet are flat on the floor and don't let him talk when you take it. And if his numbers are too high, you make him come back. I'd prefer he'd stay another day, so I can monitor him. "

"NO. Stop talking about me like I'm not here. Okay, I'll buy the machine. I'll take the pills. Just cut me loose."

He was resigned to his fate. 

Mae had walked him through the rehabilitation ward and introduced him to several stroke victims to get his attention. 

Losing a side of his body, maybe his sight, and his speech wasn't something he wanted. And, Mae pointed out repeatedly, with his luck he'd survive a stroke. Felicity would call 911, and they'd save him, and a stroke would cripple him forever.

He'd be trapped in his own body.

Yes, he'd gotten the message he didn't want to a stroke and lose his strength, and he knew he never wanted to be paralyzed ever again.

Okay, Mae'd straight out scared him.

He'd take the damn pills. After he'd looked up what had happened to him, he understood he'd been lucky he hadn't stroked, hadn't lost his sight, or his kidneys, and he knew how sick that made a person from experience.

"I suggest you buy him a weekly pill box, so he'll know if he's skipped a dose. He should take one in the morning and one before bed. If he misses a dose then he should take it was soon as he remembers."

"I don't need a pill box. And I'm in the room you know? Standing right here!"  Felicity nodded her head, while both of them ignored him.

"How old are you this year, Ollie?" Thea had to get her stab in.

"Thanks for the support, Thea. When did you say you were leaving?"

"Funny, Ollie."

"I'm well aware you're in the room, Oliver," Mae glared hard at him. "And I expect you to make an appointment and come in the office next week to check your blood pressure and do a follow up. And if the flashbacks and dreams don't get better within two weeks, I'll up the dose."

"Up the dose?"

"Yes, I've start you on the lowest dose, 1 mg but some people take up to 40 mg at night. So it may take more than what you are taking to get your blood pressure and your dreams under control. This is going to be a trial and error kind of thing. I'm still not thrilled with your bottom blood pressure number by the way. So maybe you could just not push yourself right now. Understand?"

He answered her by not answering her.

#####OQ#####

Finally Mae released him. 

The nurse insisted he ride the wheelchair down to the bottom floor and out the door. Thea had left to find her car and had offered to go and buy him a blood pressure machine, then she would meet them at the beach house. 

Felicity pulled up to the curb, and he stood and walked over to the driver's door and opened it. 

"Oliver, I think we should talk about what happened to you."

"I want to drive."

"Of course, you do. Male alpha thing." She handed him the keys, and he felt foolish, but he needed something he could control.

Shaking her blonde head, she climbed out of the driver's seat, with a frown.

After they both got in the car, he cranked it and shifted gears.

"We should talk." 

 He watched the road and shifted gears. "Can we wait until later?"

"I noticed when you say later, you really mean you're hoping I'll let it go. Not going to happen, Oliver."

But her hand reached and touched his arm, moving until she found his hand, flirting with his fingers.

And she made him smile, toying with his hand, until she said, "I met a man named Riley Clark in the cafeteria this morning. Mae referred us to him you know?"

His smile disappeared and he sighed.

"Oh, come on, he seemed nice enough. He invited me to lunch."

"Did you agree?" His tone wasn't exactly nice. No, all he could think about was Riley Clark talking to his woman.

"You didn't let me finish. He asked me to lunch with him and his wife and you were included in the invitation, of course."

"He's married?"

"You sound surprised. What do you think no woman would want him because he has been injured and has PTSD?"

"No, I didn't meant that." 

Well maybe he did. He'd know for years that he couldn't have a relationship, that he had no future. 

Knowing that someone like Riley was in a relationship, that he was married, gave him pause. Then it clicked that Riley Clark had told Felicity he had PTSD.

"What exactly did that man tell you?"

"That man told that me that he has PTSD and works with others that have it too. And he works with their spouses and significant others." She squeezed his hand. "Seems that PTSD is hard on people's relationships. Who would have known?"

He grinned until she added,  "And I told him yes, by the way."

"Yes, to what?"

"Just lunch so far."

"Felicity! Don't you think you should have spoken to me first?"

Her thumb rubbed the palm of his hand. "It's lunch, Oliver. And why ask? You'd have said no, and then we'd argued, which I know you hate. Now since I know you hate the arguing part, I saved you all that drama."

"Felicity!"

"You can thank later since I just by passed the middle man and said yes. Now we can go straight to the making up part."

Okay, he smiled at her way of thinking, even if the last thing he wanted to do was go to lunch with Riley Clark and his wife.

"So you were doing me a favor, huh?" He shook his head and sighed.

Pulling in the driveway, he shut off the engine, and she reached for him, with the words, "Yes, now touch me. Kiss me; I thought I'd lost you. Oliver, don't you do that to me ever again. I want you right now. How long do you think we have before Thea gets here?"

And her mouth devoured him, tasting him, and inflaming him. And he let the feelings sweep him away.

He didn't know if he could wait until they got out of the car, then he heard a car pulling up behind them.

"Darn that's Thea," Felicity broke the kiss, pulling away from him.

Brat, he thought. 

Just like his sister to interrupt him. 

He loved her a lot, but he had to force himself to throttle back, instantly, missing Felicity's warmth. 

Oh how she got to him.

It took him a minute before he could get out of the car without too much of a hard on. 

He'd promised to cook lunch for them, and he forced himself to think about what he was serving, not what he wanted to do with his mouth right now.

#####OQ#####

"Ollie, I never knew you liked to cook." Thea patted her tummy. 

They'd enjoyed lunch and spent the afternoon talking about old times. 

Safe topics like when they were children and the trips they'd taken, and then Oliver had made dinner.

Now as the sun was setting, the two of them walked the beach. Felicity had said she was going work a little on her tablet before bed. As usual, she was smart like that, willing to back off and give him some time alone with his sister.

And even as much as he loved his sister, Oliver wanted nothing more than to take Felicity to bed, though sleeping was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Are you ever going to open up to me, Ollie?" His sister asked him out of the blue. "We have been through so much. I miss you, brother."

His stomach tightened and his voice lowered. "I guess there are probably a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Mine." He gave her a slight smile. "Love you, Thea."

"Stop playing me,and of course, it's your fault. But really, I know you haven't opened up to even Felicity. We talked about it last night. You need to talk to someone about what's happened to you."

"I'm glad the two of you are talking more now."

"No, you're lying because you're not glad, since now the two of us can gang up on you. And we're going to, Ollie." Thea smiled before, she added, "But happy looks good on you. I'm glad  you have Felicity. And we talked wedding plans while you slept last night."

"And did the two of you come to any decisions?"

"No, but it was fun talking about it, but don't take this the wrong way, I truthfully don't think the two of you are ready to do the wedding thing yet. I think you need to focus on getting better first."

"I'm getting better." He had to believe that.

Needed to believe that.

"Today, you're better, and I'm glad you're choosing to take the medication for your high blood pressure, but I think it's going to take more than that."

He stopped walking and she turned and took his hands. 

"Ollie, you should work with that therapist Felicity talked about meeting. You need to make real changes in your life. And maybe you need someone to help you."

He pulled away and put his hands in his pockets, frowning. Riley Clark gave him a pain in his brain. 

First Felicity and now Thea was bothering him with the man.

"I don't need help. I've been fine for years by myself."

"You're such a liar. If you could have figured this out for yourself, you wouldn't have ended up in the ER. You had a panic attack."

"I did not."

"You did. My big bad brother had a panic attack."

"Stop teasing, Thea. I'll figure this out."

She moved in front of him and pushed against his chest. "Sometimes we all need help. Please, Ollie, just promise to think about it."

"All right, I'll think about it." But he didn't know if he could.

He turned and started back to the house when Thea said, "I'm planning on flying back tomorrow afternoon. So, I come by for brunch around ten. It will give you the chance to cook for me again." 

She smiled up at him.

"Brunch it is. I'm glad you came. It means a lot to me."

"And you're glad I'm leaving. So I'll quit pushing you. I hear what you don't say too, Ollie."

He gave her a smile. "I love you, Thea."

"I love you too.

Returning to the house, he wished Thea good night, hugged her and watched her drive off. 

Then entering the house, he found Felicity had nodded off in the bed. 

He knew she was exhausted and it was his fault, so carefully, he moved her tablet to the table, covered her up and turned off the light.

Then he went and kicked the ball for a while until he dripped sweat. After showering, he fell into the bed and slept.

#####OQ#####

Mike frowned at him as he watched him practice jumping. "What are you doing, Oliver?"

"Training." 

He flexed the muscles in his legs and jumped. 

Again and again.

Over and over.

He'd taken his cot apart and using one of the boards, he'd set up up a bar between two chairs, at a height of about three feet. He then practiced jumping and trying to keep his balance on a small board.

He could do this.

No, he WOULD do this.

This was his goal. He had thought this out and it could be done. It was the only way.

Shame he couldn't jump that high.

"Since when does jumping have to do with fighting?" Mike frowned again, and he noted that the man's face looked swelled.

"Since now." And he jumped again. 

Flexing his muscles, he tried again and again but just couldn't jump high enough to make the board or if he managed to jump on the board then he fell. 

But he would do this, no matter how many times he missed. 

And he missed a lot and had taken several falls. 

Finally, he had to rest and he eyed Mike, who dozed on his cot. The two were sharing a large room right now, since they were the only ones locked down at the time. 

Ivan had moved him in with Mike this morning.

"You don't look so good, Mike. You feel bad?"

"I've had a bad tooth for a couple of days. Not been feeling that well."

"Want me to pull it?"

"Can't it's infected."

"Does Hereon know you're sick?"

"It's the holidays. He's gone. Pretty much everyone's gone right now. It's like this every year. The only difference is normally I'm alone. I'm glad you're here, Oliver."

He jerked awake, gasping. 

Looking at the clock, he saw it was a little after three.  He'd slept about two hours. Carefully, he got up and dressed to run. 

Leaving her a note, he hit the beach with the soccer ball, dribbling, controlling, and kicking the ball.

But he couldn't turn his brain off.

Yes, Hereon had come back from the holidays to find Mike gone, to find him alone. He'd put Mike, his friend,  out of his misery, after the blood poisoning had set in and his kidneys failed.

Mike had gotten very sick and suffered, been past suffering when his kidneys failed. The man had swelled up, been confused and had been gasping for breath.

Only one guard, a man with no compassion, had been left to watch them. 

Hereon had killed the man when he returned and found Mike dead. And for once Hereon and he had been in agreement. 

And he'd had been glad, had wanted to kill the man himself, since the guard wouldn't make a decision because Hereon was gone, and the guard had disappeared for days on end. 

And he had refused to call Hereon or get Mike help as he got progressively sicker. 

The place had been low staffed and both he and Mike had been lucky if the man fed them, as they'd stayed locked underground, abandoned property, and forgotten for the holidays.

In the end, it'd been a mercy killing. 

He'd had to do, no matter how much it had hurt him to take Mike's life. 

It had been an act of love, for he had loved Mike and it had hurt to kill Mike because he'd died slowly from a bad tooth. 

He knew now that the tooth had caused blood poisoning, had went septic. The infection had entered his bloodstream and had slowly killed the man. 

To begin with, they'd both thought Mike had the flu on top of the tooth ache.

Then he'd become dehydrated, and his breathing had become shallow but his heart had raced. 

He'd done everything he could, but Mike had stopped being able to drink and his urine had decreased then stopped. 

The IV hadn't helped. 

No, it had made it worse because his kidneys shut down.

It had been horrible for Mike at the end, as his body failed him. He'd throw up, had a high fever, was in terrible pain, and had been confused. His poisoned body couldn't rid itself of the toxins, and he'd been dying slowly.

And, what still angered him was that Mike could have been saved by something so simple as a round of antibiotics. 

A few pills that were available even in most third world countries. 

Hell, they sold them in Mexico, cheap, and a few pills would have cured his friend. 

And yes, Mike had been his friend. Mike had saved him repeatedly and befriended him, forced him to survive, while he'd been locked away in that hell hole. 

He'd taught him how to harvest his own blood and how to do an infusion. He would have died repeatedly without Mike's training.

He kicked the ball hard down the beach and stopped for an instant gasping, knowing he'd pushed himself past what he probably should, as he ignored the small nagging headache. 

Yes, a simple round of antibiotics, a trip to the doctor, and Mike would have lived, but no, instead, it had taken him three days of yelling to get the guard to take Mike's dead body away for burial.

And then he'd waited another day so the man could find someone to threaten to taser him while they removed Mike's dead body.

The two men forced him to watch from his knees while they took his dead friend's body away.

He had screamed in rage as they'd dragged his friend away and he'd been left alone, so alone after that with only his dark, brooding, anger.

His fists had turned bright red as he'd beaten the door after they closed it until he blacked out.

So, he chased the ball and ran the beach, kicking his soccer ball for hours, until he forced himself to stop and return to bed, so exhausted that maybe he wouldn't dream.

#####OQ#####

He jerked awake when he heard her scream, in full defensive mode, he rolled straight off the bed and rushed into the bathroom.

"What?"

She looked panicked, stricken. And her bottom lip trembled, as she said with toothpaste in her mouth, "Oliver, I knocked our ring down the drain. I was brushing my teeth, and I didn't mean too." 

She turned and spit in the toilet and talked with her hands. "And now it is gone, just gone. See why I didn't take your Grandmother's expensive ring. I told you so. I knew I'd lose it. FRACK! I'm such a klutz."

Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, he wanted to smile, but he refrained because he had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate it, especially now. Instead, he ask, "Felicity, did you run the water?"

"No. I was afraid to."

"Good choice." 

He opened the bathroom cabinet door. "Okay, I need a big pan to catch water. Do we have a big pan?"

"Maybe, I've seen a hmm pan." 

She talked with her hands again, making him smile.

"It's called a roasting pan. Go and get it."

He eyed the plumbing, while Felicity went and got the pan. It looked pretty simple. Just remove the pea trap, the pipe that looked like a sideways S. Then take the pipe apart and he should find their ring.

Wrapping his large hands around the nut that held the pipe together, he twisted it counter clockwise. 

Loosening the nut, the pipe came apart. 

He dumped the water from the pea trap into the roasting pan, and he found a toothpaste cap, a hair tie and her ring at the bottom of the pan.

The smile she gave him, as he handed her their ring amazed him.

Lit up his life like the sun shining down on a gloomy day.

"You saved it! You're awesome." She rinsed the ring off then slid it back on her finger. 

And then she kissed him.

Hard.

"Yes, I did." 

"My hero."

And then she launched herself at him, right there on the bathroom floor. Her hands pulled him down, overwhelming him. 

Her mouth worked him over. 

It'd been days now since the last time he'd touched her.

He suddenly didn't know where his body ended and hers began, and he didn't care.

And, Thea said, "Seriously? Would you two stop. Now I know why you didn't answer the door."

Both of them jerked away from the other.

But he still gave her a small grin. "Thanks for breaking or rather destroy the mood, Thea."

"You're welcome because my eyes are burning. I may be permanently scarred here. Really, Ollie on the bathroom floor? And Felicity, didn't I warn you my brother LIKED inappropriate places?"

"You're enjoying this, I can tell." He stood up and reached out his hand to Felicity, who gave him a, "we just got busted again", look before she grasp his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

Thea grinned. "I believe you promised me brunch. And Felicity, you're right Ollie differently has goofy grin."

He shook his head and sighed. "Let me put this sink back together then I'll start brunch." 

Yet, he wished his sister had been a lot later this morning for it was Monday and it wouldn't be long until it would be time for his first practice and his nerves were getting to him and sex would have helped release some of his pent up tension. 

Now, he had a feeling that he wouldn't get another chance to touch her until tonight.

#####OQ#####

"My name is Oliver Queen, and I'm your new soccer coach. NOW STAND UP." 

Sixteen out of twenty stood, and inwardly, he sighed.

Scott and three others  lounged on the bleachers, no doubt daring him. 

And since Scott was their leader, he dealt directly with him. "I'll embarrass you, Scott. Send you to juvy. I'll have that the pretty car of yours towed to impound."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I don't dare. I will do it. And if you're lucky the wrecker driver won't scratch that pretty orange paint. Now let me remind not just you, but all of you, that I know the judge, and if I send you to juvy, no one gets you out, until I say so. Now last chance, stand up."

Scott gave him a murderous look, but he stood. 

And the other three stood too. 

All of them gave him hateful looks, and he schooled his face, as he looked each of them up and down.

He meant business, and he wanted them all to know it.

Nodding his head, Ned, their probation officer, opened a briefcase. 

"Now you can call me Coach Queen, or just Coach. And there will be no phones at practice. No jewelry either.  Take it off."

Unrest followed but he pushed on.

 "Officer Walker will collect your belongings and will mark them as yours, before locking them up. If you run and play the game,  after practice, I'll give your phone and jewelry back."

He saw shock crossing their faces, as it sank in that he would be making them play. 

Pointing his finger at Scott, he nodded before he said in a dark voice, "If you don't participate in the game, participate in practice, and I mean give me your all, then I'm going to keep your phone, and you'll be picking up trash on Saturday morning, early. What time, Officer Walker?"

"6:30 am." The man replied.

Pausing for effect, he add, "And I'll keep your phone overnight, and then we will try again the next day. And if you cross me again, I'm sending you straight to jail. I'm your COACH, and you'll do what I say, when I say it."

He narrowed his eyes and looked each of them in the face, though most of them won't meet his eyes.

"So you choose if you get your phone back. You choose if you want to pick up trash or go to juvy. And I know you're all thinking that you just won't bring your phone next time, which is fine, but if you don't participate to the fullest you're going straight to juvy."

He paused again, and then stared them down. "So, I suggest you choose to play, or I will replace you with someone that wants your spot, while you're in lock up. And just try to cross me, and I'll get your probation revoked. Once again, I KNOW your judge."

He could tell that they wanted to groan, each and every one of them. He started pacing and looking each of them in the eye. "Next thing, I expect each of you to come to practice in your street clothes, in your new socks and running shoes. You have all been issued two pairs of shoes and new socks. One pair is for every day and practice and one pair of shoes is for games. That pair will live in your locker. Try not to destroy your practice shoes the first week."

Again he looked them up and down before he continued with the words, "And you will wear practice clothes for practice and your official uniform for games. Your official uniform will also live in your locker. I will make sure your official uniforms gets washed between games and your practice clothes get washed between practices. Each set has been marked with a number so we will know whose is whose."

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, before he continued, "You are responsible for your socks. Be sure you come to practice in socks. Practice will be Monday through Friday, 3:15 p.m. sharp through when I get done with you. When you arrive, you will dress out in running shoes and practice clothes and be on the field by 3:30 ready to play. Now I will give you ten minutes to go and get changed out then we hit the field. Follow me."

The unrest was instant with grumbling and frowning. But he ignored it, as he marched them to the locker room.

Once they were changed and on the field. He pointed at Nick Mitchell. The red head was short and stocky and wore glasses. He was one of his pot heads who was dealing. But he handed him a permanent marker and a ball and said, "Everyone gets their own ball. Nick, write your name on yours and pass the marker down. Everyone grab a ball." He stood in front of them holding a soccer ball, as they all managed to get their balls marked then he said.

"Everyone line up. Spread out. The first thing you need to learn is how to dribble a soccer ball. Everyone drop your ball on the ground in front of you." 

He dropped his ball to the ground, in front of him. "I know this is going to take practice, and I want everyone to take their ball home and practice every chance you get. But be sure to bring it back for practice. This is your instep," he raised his foot and tapped the inside of his shoe with his hand.

"This is the part of the foot that moves the ball when you are dribbling. I welcome each and every one of you to look this up on Youtube and work on getting better at dribbling. Now I want you to use both of your feet, one after the other to push the ball along. Give the ball a small kick with each step you take. Watch." And he moved the ball down the field.

"Okay, everyone spread out a little and try it."

He moved among them as they practice and gave advice. "Don't kick it too hard, Nick. Better. Good job, Alonzo and David."

"Nice move, Phillip."

Yes, Phillip was doing pretty well since he was drinking. But he had noted the kid was somewhat sober today.

The time passed pretty quickly, as he walked among them and talked to them using their names. Some of them were starting to get somewhat control of their ball and others, not so much. Several of them seemed surprised he knew their names.

After about twenty minutes, he called them back into a line and said, "Now I want you to just practice rolling the ball backward and forward with your right foot and then your left foot so you can understand which foot is your dominate. Try to keep control of the ball. When you figure out which foot is dominate then I want you to work on strengthening the weaker foot. When are watching TV or playing video games, I want you to roll that ball with that weak foot. And believe me I'll know if you aren't doing it."

He demonstrated than walked among them praising their attempts and correcting them. And he found it odd that some of them were stronger with their left feet than their right feet, even though they were right handed.

After ten minutes of this exercise, he said, "Good work now everyone leave your ball where it is and let's run a couple of laps." Before he ran them, he stretched them out, then he ran them into the ground with a good pace. 

Most of them were mainly gasping after about ten minutes, and he slowed the pace and turned and running backwards, he told them, "Last lap around the field. You can do this."

Several of them almost didn't make it. All of them collapsed when they finished, but he forced them to get up and stretch again. Then he let them moan and groan before he opened a cooler and told them to hydrate.

Getting them up and moving, he herded them toward the showers with the words, "Good job, team. You earned your phones back. I'll see you tomorrow."

#####OQ#####

It had been a good first practice, he thought, as he striped his shirt and started punching the bag he had hung from a hook in the locker room. He had started the industrial washer and had some time to kill, so he'd get in a workout. Jabbing and punching, he then added round house kicks, working up a good sweat when he suddenly realized the air in the room had changed.

Spinning on his heel, fists up, he realized Riley Clark stood in the doorway, watching him. Today, the man had on cargo pants and if, he hadn't known, he would have had no clue that the man's legs weren't flesh and blood.

But Riley Clark was starting to be like a bad penny since he just kept turning up.

Damn, he realized had his shirt off. He grabbed it off the chair and slipped it on.

"Oliver, don't pull your shirt on for my expense. Since  by the way, it's too late, I've already seen your scars. All of them on your chest and your back."

He knew he should have left his shirt on, but he'd thought he was alone. He'd lock the door next time. For an instant, he had to shut his eyes to center himself, to push the self-anger down.

"Breathe, Oliver, it's all right. You need to wear your scars with honor. I think of mine as showing how strong I am. And yes, I've got other scars too. Maybe, you've seen my face." He pointed to the jagged scar on his cheek. "And I have other scars, both inside and outside, though one of mine is bigger than yours by the way."

The man pulled his polo shirt up and showed him the huge garbled mess that was his left side.

"You're lucky to be alive." He finally said.

"I didn't always think so. It took a lot of time for me to believe that. And from the looks of it so are you."

Oliver didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet.

Riley dropped his shirt . "How was first practice?"

He wasn't even going to ask how Riley knew that, since he was starting to realize that in this small town people talked and knew everything.

"It was a good start. A beginning."

"Most of the town is behind this project. Did you know that?"

"No. I didn't know."

"Well we are. Now, are we on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Look, Mr. Clark."

"No, call me, Riley." He smoothly interrupted him, "I'd like us to be friends. I need friends. People who can understand people like me. And I think you and I have a lot in common."

Oliver thought, less than you can image and that's not happening, but he said, "Where do you want to meet for lunch?"

"Pizza work for you?"

"Sure."

"I'll text Felicity with the address, unless you want to give me your number?"

"You have Felicity's number?"

But of course, he did.

"I just noted that you  _avoided_   telling me your phone number. If there is one thing about having PTSD, it's reliable. We are masters at not answering, at avoiding the question. Well, I just wanted to drop by. Touch base with you so to speak. I'll see you tomorrow."

And the man turned and walked away.

He turned and attacked the bag. Slamming his fists into the bag, he thought, that he didn't want to talk to Riley Clark. 

He didn't want to go to therapy. 

Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone?

Damn it, he WAS coping. He kicked the bag repeatedly.

Everyone needed to just stop pushing him. The dark anger assaulted him, as he viciously attacked the bag.

Mae was pushing him.

Thea was pushing him.

If John was really talking to him, he'd be pushing him, too.

Heaven knew Felicity was going to be not just pushing him, no, she would be shoving him after they had lunch tomorrow.

And now, Riley was pushing him, too.

His scar was bigger then his, he growled, as he beat the bag up.

#####OQ#####

 As always, thanks for the read!

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my readers from a different forum reminded me that my readers would like to read my prequel of this story "Normal Life is Hard for Oliver and Felicity." Please check out my other story "Oliver Queen is Dead: Long Live Al Sah-Him" on this same forum and please let me know what you think. Enjoy and as always thanks for the read. 
> 
> Now I hope you enjoy this week's chapter. And many thanks to all my readers that take the time to talk to me.

One of my readers from a different forum reminded me that my readers would like to read my prequel of this story "Normal Life is Hard for Oliver and Felicity." Please check out my other story "Oliver Queen is Dead: Long Live Al Sah-Him" on this same forum and please let me know what you think. Enjoy and as always thanks for the read.

Now I hope you enjoy this week's chapter. And many thanks to all my readers that take the time to talk to me.

#####OQ#####

After finishing the teams' laundry, he locked up and headed up the ramp toward his motorcycle when his phone rang. Glancing down, he frowned at the unknown number, but since it was this area code he picked up.

"Hello, Oliver."

"Mae?" He would know that voice anywhere now.

"Yes, it's Mae."

Now what did she want, he thought, but he said, "Well, hello, what can I do for you?"

"I'm just touching base with you. I was wonder how you are?"

Which instantly made him wonder if she had just talked to Riley?

"How are you feeling? Be truthful, Oliver."

He shut his eyes for an instant, as he thought about telling the truth, then said,"I'm fine, no side effects."

Mae so reminded of him of Raisa, who always knew when he was lying, when she said, "I can tell you're lying, Oliver. Try again. And don't you dare lie to me about your health again. I'm trying to keep you alive here."

He sighed, then admitted, "I'm a little tired. I feel like I'm dragging. Okay, I'm really tired."

"You're probably more like exhausted. That's a side effect of prazosin. It will pass. But have you felt dizzy?"

"No."

"Headache today?"

"No."

"Good. Now, Oliver, I wanted to talk about how much do you normally sleep at night?"

"Okay."

"So how many hours do you average a night?"

"Some."

"Which mean's what? Two hours? Four hours?" Mae voice had a censuring tone to it.

And he really wanted to lie, but he forced himself to tell the truth and say, "Lately maybe four."

"That's not enough. I'm starting to think your insomnia might have caused your high blood pressure problems. And maybe it's time you thought about going on medication to help you sleep?"

"No, I'm not doing that. I tried that last night and trust me I don't want to do it again." He couldn't keep the sharpness, the darkness out of his voice.

His chest tightened. 

How could he explain that he had to be able to wake up? He had tried last night sleeping with medication and it hadn't worked. No, what being sedated had done was kept him from being able to escape the terror. Even now his heart had began to race. Just the thought of not being able to wake up raised his stress level.

He was never going to do that again. He had to be able to wake up to escape the pain, and to escape the dreams.

"All right for now, but I just want to reinforce what I said earlier about going easy the next week to ten days, and I realized maybe I needed to spell it out for you."

"Go easy?" Why did he not like the sound of that?

"I understand you're working with your soccer team but I mean it, no pushing yourself period. And yes, that means no running until you're soaked in sweat, no pushing yourself hitting a punching bag until you're soaked in sweat."

Now, he was sure Riley had talked to Mae and just ratted him out. Thanks Riley, he thought. Tattling to Mae is not exactly the way to get on my good side.

"And, Oliver, I understand that you're not going to like this but I mean no sex either."

Well, he had already broken two of those rules already, and he would be damned if he'd go without touching her for the next seven to ten days. It'd already been almost three days now, and he was past ready to have her. 

He'd been looking forward to going home and having her not just  tonight, but as soon as he came in the door and could get her clothes off. He had already planned out how he was going to take her the instant he got home and it was going to be hard, fast and hot, then he would work his way up to slow and easy, but now that fantasy was going down the toilet now.

"No, sex. Now you can't be serious. I'm fine. And I'm not going to go a week without sex. I'm just not doing it."

He didn't care if he sounded like a child that had just found a candy stash, and just been told he couldn't eat any of it. 

Yes, he needed her and was hungry for her. 

After just three days without having her, he didn't just want a piece of candy, hell no, he want the  entire candy bar, the entire sack full.

Mae said dryly. "You're not fine. And if you die, you won't be having sex ever again. And I really don't think Felicity would appreciate you dying on top of."

"Stop, right there. Whatever you were going to say. Just stop. I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you."

"I'm a doctor, Oliver, and you get my meaning. So, no sex at least for a few days."

"But?"

"But nothing. Look, I released you from the hospital when I'd have preferred to keep you a couple more days because you insisted. Since I'm not sure if your blood pressure's really under control or not, I need readings. Have you even taken your blood pressure lately?"

"No, not in the last few hours?" He frowned deeply now.

"Of course, you haven't. You're ignoring your health." He heard her sigh deeply before she said in a strong voice, "Okay, let me spell this out for you. I want you take your blood pressure reading and write it down at least every four hours during the day. You need to keep a log, and I want to see it on Thursday at 10 a.m. when you come into the office."

"So soon. I . . ."

"Thursday! And I want you to take a reading at least three times a day. Plus, I want you to stop and think about what is going on with your body, about how you could stroke or die if you continue to ignore what's going on with your health."

He was trying but it was really hard, especially when he was still reeling from Mae's no sex and no hard exercise rules. What was he going to do with himself at night?

Mae went on . "Oliver, you don't need to push your heart rate up. It really isn't really a good idea right now. And you've never taken this medication before. I don't know how your body's going to respond to it. You do understand that what happened to you could happen again?"

"You haven't told Felicity that have you?" He was looking for a loophole here.

"Where do you think I got this phone number? So, yes, I have spoken to her about this. And she told me to tell you that no matter what you think you're not immortal."

His stomach dropped as he shut his eyes, his anger rising."Mae, you had no right to tell her."

"She has every right to know and now you've put a ring on her finger, which means you intend to marry her. You two love each other. Which reminds me, I still need to give you two an engagement party."

"That's really not necessary." 

"No, I should introduce you both around. Let me write that down, so I don't forget again. I've got rounds now, so, I've got to go. I'll see you on Thursday at 10 a.m. sharp in the office for a checkup. I had an opening tomorrow, but I know you are having lunch with Riley and Anna, and I want you to go to that instead."

"Mae, stop pushing me. I don't like to be pushed." He couldn't keep the darkness out of his voice.

"No one likes to be pushed, Oliver but sometimes we need it. What you need to do is think about how lost Felicity would be without you. What would happen to her if you died? She loves you and would be crushed. I know you would never want to hurt her like that so you need to take better care of yourself."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't going to die but knew he couldn't.

"And you need to give Riley a chance, Oliver. I still think you two would hit it off. You have both been through so much."

"I've agreed to lunch." His words sharp, his gut twisted.

"Good for you. And by the way how was the first soccer practice? Warren will want to know."

Now, he wanted to groan. Felicity would cut him off cold. Mae knew way too much about him. And this being sick thing sucked.

"First practice went pretty well. And we don't need an engagement party."

"No, it would be fun. I'll get back to you after I talk to Warren. Heck, and I think we should plan a fund raiser for your team. Your grant money's running out. And your team needs a name, Oliver. What do think about team Queen. I like that. Hmm."

"Mae don't blow this out of proportion."

"Oliver, have I ever told you that they call me B&P."

"B&P?"

"Yeah, bossy and pushy."

And he groaned.

#####OQ#####

He was so far from happy that he couldn't even find glad, as they crossed the dining room and headed to meet Riley and his wife, Anna, for lunch. Felicity had shut him down cold on the sex thing. And what had started out as a talk, quickly escalated into Felicity screaming at him and calling him names like selfish and self centered. He had lost it and had screamed back and then he hadn't gotten anything but a kiss for the making up part. 

His current mood was still horrid, and he'd barely slept last night. In addition, when he had tried to creep from the bed around two a.m., she had grabbed his arm with the words, "I wouldn't if I were you. You need to sleep."

So he had been forced to lay there and think, and he was currently in a very dark place with his mood.

The pizza smelled good today, but he wondered if he would really be able to eat. He had skipped breakfast, so he could eat a reasonable lunch. However, his stomach was still pretty small, and he was still struggling somewhat with his weight, even though he was drinking energy drinks and eating what seemed to be constantly. 

But, he knew he was burning too many calories versus calorie input and this lunch with the Clark's was tightening his chest and raising his heart rate. The man had said just lunch, no pressure, but still Riley was a therapist, a Dr. who knew he had . . . problems. His brain shied away from even thinking those letters. And he was pretty sure Riley had ratted him out to Mae.

Killing Riley Clark had crossed his mind repeatedly in the past sixteen hours.

And he hated those letters. Just like he hated that he couldn't exercise, hated having lunch with a therapist, and really hated that he couldn't have sex. He was beginning to think dying might be better after all.

Crossing the restaurant, Felicity reached and took his hand and gave him her special smile before she said, "You're cranky and have grumpy face today. Would you just stop brooding? Could you just try to give him a chance, Oliver. It's just lunch. No big deal."

"Is my mood showing that badly?"

"Just to me. There they are. Come on, try to like him. Maybe he could help us. Paste that fake smile of yours on your face already. I know you know how."

"Okay, like this?" He tried to smile.

And she gave him a slight grin and shook her head no.

Riley had chosen the very back table, in a corner. And against his will, he approved of the man's selection. 

The couple stood as he and Felicity approached the table. Riley's wife, was a dark headed tall woman with a sweet smile, and a smile she mainly aimed at Riley as a look passed between the couple.

Okay, he liked that. He liked that a man as damaged as Riley had a woman who's smile belonged only to him. It gave him hope that Felicity could love just him, that she could care about him and it wasn't just going to stop anytime soon.

And, it was nice to see that the two of them plainly adored each other.

Yes, he could see that Anna loved Riley, when he was so plainly damaged. There was no way he could forget the fact that Riley's leg were gone, blown off, and, the man had admitted he had other problems too.

The fact Riley was in a committed relationship, and they were making it work gave him pause, and he found that silly thing called hope, entering his mind again. Along with the thought that maybe, just maybe, Felicity could continue to love him as damaged as he was, crept into his mind.

"Oliver and Felicity this is my wife, Anna." Riley reached and gave him a firm handshake and then quickly released him.

Another point in his favor.

He hated guys who insisted on crushing his hand, in an attempt to prove they had to be stronger than him, especially when he knew he could best them if push came to shove.

The introductions made, Riley gestured to a chair. "Oliver, why don't you sit here with your back to the wall. I'm personally hyper vigilant sometimes, and I don't know about you, but in situations with a lot of people, I spend way too much time stressing about monitoring the room, especially if I sit with my back to people. And I'm not up for the stress today."

What Riley said was true. He normally choose to sit where he could see the crowd, if he had to sit with people behind him he chose the least people, and always he was watching and waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the next attack, and for the enemy to show themselves.

So, he sat in the chair with his back to the wall, and then ask, "What branch of the army were you?"

"Special Forces, who do you think paid for my education after I got my legs blown off? Graduate school is hardly cheap. But personally fifty grand wasn't enough for my legs."

"Riley!" Anna said with a frown. "Can we shoot for a good impression here? Just try for once."

"Well it's true. I'd have still gotten the fifty grand to go to school if I would have gotten to keep the legs."

"But you would have never met me." And Anna flashed Riley a nice smile.

"You were Green Berate?" Felicity asked.

"Yeah, I was. Hard to believe, huh?"

"That's got to be so hard. Going from. . ." He stopped himself before he said the words.

"You're right it was. I'll finish your sentence. I went from one of the most elite soldiers to this?" He gestured downward toward his legs.

"There's nothing wrong with what you have, Riley." Anna assured him.

"I never said there was. But yes, I went from having legs to not having legs. In the blink of an eye. And yes, it was hard for me. So I understand about trying to cope. And, yes, I'm coping. Everyday, I'm coping, and I had to learn coping strategies, and I had to learn to let people help me, which was and is harder than you'd think it is." He reached for Anna's hand for a second then released it and smiled.

No pressure. Right, he thought, as he frowned deeply.

But then Riley left it at that, as the waitress arrived and took their drink orders, and they all agreed to just do the buffet.

So, in a short time everyone was eating pizza and salad, though he knew he wasn't going be able to eat a lot, even though he had skipped breakfast, and he was trying NOT to think about what Riley had said about coping and people helping him.

No, instead, he thought about covering up, about how he would make a good show of eating. So, he made sure he spread his salad thin and wide on his plate and choose a couple of small pizza slices.

"So," Felicity broke the silence after they were all seated again.

Of course, she would talk first, he thought, for quiet and Felicity didn't go together. "Anna, tell me how did you and Riley meet?"

Riley groaned as he took a bite of pizza.

"Riley ran over my foot with his wheel chair, as I was trying to open the library door for him. Of course, he regretted it and bought me a coffee to make it up to me."

"And I'm never going to live that down am I?" And he watched as Riley's hand reached for Anna's.

"No, you're not." But her smile was for Riley alone and he realized that. Yes, he saw that Anna loved Riley and like Felicity rocked his world, Anna rocked Riley's.

"And do you know how hard it was going to school in a wheel chair?" Riley's face darkened. "Do you know how handicap unfriendly some campuses are?"

"Don't get on your soapbox, Riley. We have company. We all get that you had it hard."

"I just feel that the campuses could do a better job for the handicap."

"Then donate some money to them and earmark it. We've discussed this before. Repeatedly, Riley."

"After we pay off the house." Riley gave her a small smile and his hand reached and touched her face, so softly.

"And after we pay for the first child, we can't afford." She reached out and smiled, as she touched his hand and then pulled away.

And he watched Riley inhale sharply, and Oliver could tell that Anna wanted that with Riley, that she really wanted to have babies with him. And he watched Riley press his lips hard together before he said, "Yes, Anna, you know I want to have babies with you. **"**

"You have children?" Felicity asked brightly, and Oliver imagined them having a child together and the idea took his breath away.

Yes, some day, he wanted that, someday in the future. But how did he tell Felicity that when he seemed to have so many problems?

"Heavens no, but someday soon."

Oliver almost smiled, as he watched them play off each other, and his eyes darted to Felicity and with her normal sixth sense, she winked at him.

Anna continued, "So, back on topic, yes, we met in grad school. Riley was working on his doctorate and after literally running my foot over, he hired me to help him with editing his dissertation. I have a minor in English and was working on my masters. And he's a terrible writer."

"I'm not that bad." Riley rolled his eyes, and Oliver almost smiled at the way the two of them had a natural rapport with each other.

Yes, they were a couple. A nice couple, but of course, they were. 

Mae had said he'd like Riley, and he was unhappy, for he was finding out she was right. Yet, he didn't want to like Riley. It would be easier to say no if he disliked the man.

"Says you? You'd have never gotten your doctorate without me." And Anna gave him a look that made Riley duck his head, and Oliver couldn't help it, he grinned a little and almost felt sorry for Riley, since he had been on the receiving end of that certain look himself. Felicity had a look just like that meant "Bull, you're lying and I know it."

"So you got your doctorate. What did you write your dissertation on?" Felicity asked.

"Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and Suicidal Behavior in Veterans," said Anna.

He watched Felicity whiten, as Riley quipped, "Sincerely, I was looking for a reason to live."

"Don't joke like that. They don't know you." Anna shook her head at him. "Don't take him seriously. Riley handles his situation with bluntness and bad jokes to cover his PTSD. He enjoys shock value. Last Halloween he used one of his old prosthesis legs to hold the candy and then took his legs off. Needless to say, he scared the trick or treaters away from our door."

Okay, the man liked to shock people, he realized that was the reason Riley had worn shorts the first time he met him. He'd wanted to shock, wanted him to know right off he'd lost his legs.

And somehow, he wasn't entirely sure Riley was joking about not wanting to die, but the moment passed, as he kept his silence not wanting to encourage any more use of those letters. He hated those letters. Realizing he was frowning, he schooled his face and then he noticed Felicity had touched his arm, giving him an are you here look?

"And the rest is history, as they say." Riley reached and took Anna's hand and looking her in the eyes, he kissed the palm of her hand, and Oliver appreciated a cool move when he saw one. 

Maybe he needed to try that move sometime on Felicity, as he watched Anna just about melt, and the smile she gave Riley, he could tell rocked Riley's world. Yes, Anna belonged to Riley. And he wondered if he looked like that when he looked at Felicity.

And kind of hoped he did.

"I would guess you two are newlyweds?" Felicity smiled as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his for an instant then released him.

"Yes, but no. We've been together for five years, but we've only been married for the last six months." Anna gave Riley one of those looks, the look that said "you're an idiot" before she added, "It was hard to get Riley to commit."

"Anna! I'm sure they don't want to know that."

Riley looked uncomfortable, and he found himself enjoying the man's discomfort. Well, maybe they did have some things in common, things like taking years to commit even when it was clear Riley loved his wife. 

And yes, he'd loved Felicity for years too. He just hadn't thought he could keep her safe if he allowed himself to love her openly, but he was glad that he could love her openly now. His eyes scanned the full room and tried not to think about the time they'd been blow up in a restaurant not unlike this one. 

"Well, Oliver, what do you think of coaching soccer?" Anna asked pulling him away from the memory.

"I've only had one practice. It's a little early to tell yet." He pushed his food around on his plate and took a small bite, and he noted that Felicity had given him a look that said, "I see what you are doing there." And again, her hand reached and touched his then moved away.

"So how many teens do you have on your team?"

"Twenty."

Anna waited to give him time to continue the conversation, and when he didn't she ask, "And how long before the season starts."

"About six weeks."

Again, she paused before she said, "Not much time to work with them."

"No."

Felicity gave him a dirty look and a small kick to his shin, then she turned. "And what do you to fill your time, Anna?"

"I'm a counselor and work with the court system. Actually most of the teens on Oliver's team are court ordered to come and see me, though I visit most of them during school."

"Well that's going to be awkward," Felicity pointed her finger at Anna and then him and then herself. "Really awkward, since I know about these kids too. How many of them can we officially not talk about? Privacy act and all that and then you added in doctor patient confidentiality. It just blows the mind that we can't discuss these kids. When what we really need to do is to talk about how to help these little juvenile delinquents because some of these kids, let me tell you, are not nice kids. No, not nice at all. Way on the other side of nice."

And she was pointing her finger, talking with her hands and Oliver couldn't help it, he laughed, as he shook his head. And so did Riley and Anna. 

Trust Felicity to break the tension at the table.

"Well that's an excellent question. And I don't have a clue how to the answer it. But, Oliver, I can tell you that you have your work cut out for you."

He nodded.

Felicity sighed then said, "Riley, so you do therapy work too?"

He wanted to growl knowing she was doing this on purpose.

"Yes, I specialize in patients with. . ." He cringed as Riley said, "PTSD. It helps that I understand their problems first hand."

Laying, his fork down, he clinched his hands into fists as his stomach knotted.

"And I've heard that you're working on upgrading the hospital network, Felicity?" Riley said.

And again that was a point in Riley's favor for that would have been the perfect time to push and he hadn't. No, instead he'd changed the topic.

"I am. It's in terrible shape."

The meal continued and it wasn't long until they finished eating.

"Do you play darts, Oliver?"

"No." And he couldn't say that he liked anything to do with them, since he hated darts.

"Go on and learn, Oliver. I'd like to visit with Anna for a little bit." Felicity waved him away.

#####OQ#####

"Your man and you have caused a lot of talk in this town." Anna said, as she watched Oliver and Riley walk away.

"Have we?" Felicity wondered where this conversation was going.

Anna turned back to face her. "Yes, but that's small town. Gossip makes the world go round. Look I'm going to cut straight to the point here. Mae would really like Oliver to come in and see Riley in the office."

"Mae's pushy, I've noticed."

"So am I. But look, I get that you're protecting him. I protect Riley too. My man has had a hard time, a really hard time and has real problems. And for some stupid reason I love him dearly. So I understand that loving a man with PTSD is hard sometimes. Riley spends way too much time  deep into his own head. So, if you ever want to talk, I'd love to get together."

"Wow, do we have stuff in common or what?"

And both of them laughed then Anna asked, "Does Oliver avoid questions?"

"Like a champ. Answer a question with a question?"

"Lie by avoidance? I just won't tell you and hopefully you'll forget to ask?"

"Angry?"

"Guilty?"

"Moody?"

"Broody?"

"It's like living with the seven dwarfs of PTSD."

Both of them giggled and Felicity said, "Give me your phone number. You and me are going to be new best friends."

They exchanged phone numbers and then Anna said, "But really, Riley wants to work with Oliver. Mae has put a buzz in his ear over your man. And she wants Oliver to go and see him, to get help with his PTSD. She's worried about him."

"Mae's a force to be reckoned with that's for sure."

"And I know you're new in town but let me tell you what Mae wants she normally gets. I would know. She's a major influence in Riley's life. She pushed him hard to go back to school, to get his doctrine, and to stop wallowing in self-pity especially after her son died. I would guess you know her son died?"

"Yes, I read that somewhere. Are they related?" No way was she saying that she knew he had killed himself.

"No, but she loves Riley like a son, and she has known him since he was kid. And Phillip's death was so sad and unexpected."

"So you knew him?"

"No, but Riley was still dealing with his grief when I first met him. He felt guilty that he had missed the signs. Blamed himself, because he thought Phillip was fine when he came home from his two tours in Afghanistan."

"But he wasn't fine was he?" She could stop but look Oliver's way.

"No, he wasn't, and Riley was his best friend. They'd enlisted together. They were going to be Special Forces together, but then Phillip washed out of the program and ended up in the regular infantry. And I think Riley has always felt guilty that he made it through, that somehow it was his fault, and if he would have washed out too, then he would have just stayed with Phillip and it would have changed something."

Anna looked toward Riley. "Of course, everyone thinks like that. We regret and wish we could change things but the reality is today is what we have. And the question is what do we want from today? I have a master's in Psychology, and I have issues dealing with Riley's problems. And I know I am being forward since we just met but Felicity, the question is what do you want for Oliver? And what do you think? Does he need help? Do you need help dealing with his PTSD?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, he does and so do I. So how do we get him to accept Riley's help?"

"You start counseling to learn how to deal with his problems, and so he sees that going to counseling isn't threatening. And we'll start going out together as couples. You know I'll invite you over for dinner and you invite me back, so that he gets comfortable with Riley and me."

"Take out okay? I don't really cook. Bad at it. Oliver cooks not me."

"Then get Oliver to cook for us."

She could see that happening like never.

"He'd do it for you. Felicity, everyone in this town knows the man is crazy about you. He fought the tide to save you. Ask nice and if that doesn't work you can always pull the no sex card."

And Felicity choked on her drink.

#####OQ#####

Riley pulled the darts out of the board and handed him three darts.

"So you've never played darts before?"

"No." He'd thrown a lot of knifes, shot countless arrows and was pretty good with a gun but had never throw darts for fun. And he didn't like darts since they brought back bad memories. He shut that thought down.

"Well, then let's not get to far back to start with. You go first. I'll help you score and we'll just play for fun."

"Okay, I would guess you shoot for the middle."

"Yes, the red dot is a bulls-eye, and gets you 50 points. The green circle around it is called the bull and scores 25 points, though see this small inner ring of red and green, if you hit that it triples the number. See if you hit the 19 here it would triple to 57, which is more than a bulls-eye."

He threw his first dart and hit the triple 19, then threw the second to the bulls-eye and then the third he hit the triple 20 mark. "I would think that would be 60 so that would be 167 right?"

"And you have never played this game before?" Riley raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, but it doesn't seem too hard. Your turn, Riley."

"I'm thinking you win, Oliver. So what have you thrown, knifes?"

"A time or two."

"Maybe more?" Riley threw his darts and scored 69 and said, "You win and I can see I'm no competition. Hey, but I have a question for you."

"All right."

"I'm positive I didn't make any noise yesterday when you were punching that bag and still you knew I was there. I get that you're probably can't stop yourself from being like that but how did you know I was there?"

"The air changed because you were breathing."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I knew the air had changed."

"You're too much did you know that?"

"Yeah, I probably am. But Riley if you rat me out to Mae again, legs or no legs, I'm going to beat you up."

"You could try. And let me tell you something about losing your legs." He pulled his sleeve up and made a massive muscle. "I've had five years to build my arms up, so you might be surprised how hard it would be to take me." 

"So might you. But I mean it about telling Mae what I do."

"Point taken, but I haven't talked to Mae lately, so if someone ratted you out then maybe you should look a little closer to home."

Riley nodded back toward the table, and he sighed as he thought yeah, it had probably been Felicity who had ratted him out to Mae.

#####OQ####

It was the third day of practice and he didn't know if he should laugh or swear. His team was testing him. Not just one or two but all of them had forgotten to bring their soccer balls. They were waiting on the field to see how he handled it. Some of them were looking at him with defiance and others looked guilty at their feet.

Well if nothing else they were working as a team to defy him.

"Coach you didn't tell us to bring our ball back to practice." said Tyler.

"Guess practice is over for the day," said Scott smugly.

Smart ass, he thought, for he was sure that Scott had planned this. Yes, they were testing him. Okay, today he'd teach them a lesson.

"No practice is not over. Not even close. All right. Let me make this crystal clear. You WILL bring your soccer ball to every practice. I will let this time slide but not next time. The next time any of you," he made air quotes with his fingers when he said the word, "FORGETS" then he looked in Scott's eyes before he said, "your soccer ball. Everyone will run the entire practice."

"That's not fair," said David, "You can't punish me because someone else doesn't bring their ball."

Several other voices protested too. Nothing like the true partner effect. If one person will stand up then others will join him.

He turned on David and said, "Life's not fair. Not even close and the sooner you realize that the better off you will be. And yes, since I'm your coach, I CAN make you run you because you're part of a team and if all of you can FORGET," again he used the air quotes, before he said, "your soccer ball on the same day, then all of you can remember your soccer ball on the same day."

That knocked the smile right off their faces. No, he was smart enough to know they had gotten together and planned this. 

This was true passive aggressive resistance.

"So today only, I will forgive this but not next time. Now, It just happens that I have some extra equipment. Phillip, come and help me. Tyler, I want you to start stretching the team out. Start with an easy jog around the field then do shoulder stretches, and by that time, I'll be back."

"Okay."

"Listen up, you will all address me as Coach or Coach Queen."

"Yes, Coach," said, Tyler, though his tone was hardly respectful.

As soon as he and Phillip headed to the locker room and gotten out of the rest of the team's hearing, he turned and looked the teen in the eyes. "Phillip, if you come to practice drinking one more time, I'm sending you to rehab. I WILL lock you up."

He visibly colored red. "Drinking? I'm not drinking. Coach."

"Don't insult me by lying about it. I've made the mistake of drinking a lot when I was young, and I smell the whiskey on you. And you're pretty lit today, just like every day. Do you get up and drink, Phillip? Or do you just never sober up?"

The teen looked at his feet but the guilt was on his face.

"Can you stop or do you need help?"

Silence.

"I'm not going to do anything about it today, Phillip or do you prefer Phil?"

"Phil." He said in a quiet voice.

"Coach!"

"Coach."

Okay, Phil, when is the last time you didn't drink?"

"I don't know," Phillip said in a small voice, with a shrug of his thin shoulders. "Coach, it's no big deal."

"No, it's a very big deal. Drinking is what landed you here. Does your dad know you're drinking every day?"

"He doesn't care. And who's booze do you think I drink? COACH!" Now, his tone was defiant.

He took in Phil's, blonde hair with blue streaks, the holes in his nose and lip from his piercings and the skull tattoo on his wrist before he looked him in his green eyes and, he remembered that Phil's mother had died of cancer, so he softened his voice. "Well, I care. So, no more drinking before practice unless you want to go to rehab. But maybe that's what you need? So you choose. Stop drinking yourself, or I'll make sure you get help."

"Why would you care, Coach? I'm nothing to you." The look Phillip gave him was filled with surprise and his voice  earnest but it almost accused him of lying.

Suddenly, he knew he did care. He could care about each of these teens, well most of them, so, he stood straighter. "Because I'm your coach now, and you're part of my team, so you're important to me." He pointed a finger to his chest and said, "And I take care of my own."

And he pointed at the young man. "And you're destroying your brain with alcohol and you're smart, Phil. Smart enough that you have a chance to make something of yourself, to be something. I see it in you."

"You do?" The disbelief clear in his voice.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah, I do, now let's get that equipment and start practice."

"Okay, Coach."

Returning to the field, he commented to Tyler what a good job he had done stretching the team out and then took over and finished stretching them out.

"Now we are going to work on stopping the soccer ball with the foot. Some call it trapping the ball. Now remember how you figured out Monday if you a right or left footed? A nod here, guys? I do expect feedback some times."

Okay, he got a few nods.

"Now, I'm right footed so if I want to trap the ball, I use the ball of my right foot. Right here." He raised his right foot and tapped the inside of his heel. "Now remember this is going to take practice because the reflex is going to be for you to try to kick the ball back and that isn't what I want. I want you to learn to control the ball and stop it."

"Now watch as I lock my ankle, put my toe up and my heel down, and I will use sole of my foot to almost stop the ball, to absorb the ball's energy."

"David, kick me a ball." He demonstrated the move ending up with his foot on top of the ball and stopped it pointing his toes up. "It's important to learn to trap the ball since this is a skill that controls the ball. And you want to stop the ball in front of you when you trap, since it gives a player a better chance to keep possession of the ball. Because trust me every player on the other team is going to try to steal the ball away from you. But we'll get to that later."

Breaking the team into five groups of four, he had them work on passing the ball back and forth to each other and trapping the ball for a while, while he encouraged them and corrected them, as they worked on learning to stop the ball. Afterwards, he called them back into a group and they ran laps, and then he sent them to the showers, as he wondered what they were going to pull next.

#####OQ#####

Checking his watch, he locked the door and headed up the ramp and out of the building when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. 

Yes, something felt wrong. He could feel it in the air.

Shoving the door open hard, he caught the metal pipe before it connected with his stomach and twisted, smoothly taking it away from his attacker, a thin tall man who wore a ski mask, black hoodie and jeans and who bolted and ran. 

Spinning on his heel, he used the pipe to deflect the blow of another of his attackers, who was also armed with a pipe and dressed the same as the first attacker, who was now long gone.

One of them was out for blood, as he avoided a head blow by reaching and catching the pipe in midair as he tapped the hand that held the pipe with a sharp rap. 

He fully intended to leave a good bruise.

His attacker released the pipe, with a sharp cry and grabbed his now injured wrist. Now he had two pipes, as he smacked the other one on his forearm. "Now unless you two want to take this to the next level, you'd better drop the pipe and get out of here. And  remember next time, I'm not going to go easy on you. Spread the word, you attack me like a man, you better be ready to fight like a man."

The pipe clattered to the sidewalk and they both ran, and both of them were wearing team running shoes. 

Smooth move, he thought, as he shook his head and gave a small laugh.

Bending, he picked up the metal pipe and headed toward his bike. Well at least he knew now how the other coach had gotten his arm broken. Then he cursed when he reached his bike and saw he had two flats. Felicity was right these were not nice kids. They had planned to beat him up and then leave him stranded, no doubt bleeding on the sidewalk.

Sighing deeply, he reached and pulled out his phone and thumbed his way to Felicity's number and hit connect.

"Hello," came her sing song voice. "You'd better not be calling to say you're going to be late. I texted you that we were eating with the Clark's tonight."

He frowned. 

Okay, he'd known Felicity planned  to spend the day with Anna and was enjoying her new friendship. Breathing out, he couldn't stop the ugly thought that Felicity wanted to spend more time with Anna then with him right now, but he tamped his hurt feelings down, for he liked how happy Felicity had seemed about her plans this morning.

"Feel free to start without me because I'm sorry, but I'm going to be late. And I need a wrecker."

"What happened?" He heard her distress. "Did you wreck the bike? Are you okay?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just have a couple of flats. And since the tires were slashed, I don't think leaving my bike overnight would be a great idea."

"Oliver, be careful. That sounds like they're setting you up."

"Yes, they were."

"Okay, now my question is are they okay?"

"Let's just say I'm going to be able to single a couple of them out at next practice."

"Hold on. What did you say, Anna? Really? That'd be great. Hey, Riley's coming to get you. He's driving the pickup today."

"Isn't that awesome."

"Oliver, your sarcasm's showing."

"Probably."

"I'll see you in a little while. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

Just great. He'd get to spend more time with Riley. 

What more could he want? 

This day just getting better and better. And tomorrow he had a doctor's appointment with Mae and according to his log his blood pressure was still high.

Well wasn't life grand? 

And he needed to figure out how to get rid of three metal pipes before Felicity saw that his team members had tried to hurt him. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. 

No, there were not nice kids at all.

#####OQ#####

Okay, my readers you know the drill. Hope to hear from at least a few of you. And as always thanks for the read. I love it when you take the time to take to me. So do it. Review. So many read and so few talk. Be the one!

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

Happy early Turkey Day. Enjoy!

#####OQ#####

Of course, Riley owned a huge red pickup truck. One that had tinted windows and a king cab. A real guy's truck.

And the man wasn't a fool for when he pulled up and rolled the window down, he said, "You have two flats? Now, why do I have a feeling somebody really doesn't like you?"

"More than one, after I threatened to make them all run the entire practice if even one of them forgets their soccer ball again."

"Someone conveniently forget their soccer ball today?"

"Try all of them."

Riley laughed and said, "Well, then I guess you earned those flats. Let me back into that ditch over there. I think we would better off rolling your bike into the back of the truck then trying to lift it."

He couldn't help himself, "What? My bike's only about four hundred pounds. I thought you said you had strong arms? Put up or shut up kind of thing."

Frowning, Riley said, "Guess I'm going to shut up. My back will thank me. So I'll just going to pass, since there's an easier way. I'm going to back into that ditch now."

He almost felt bad as he admitted. "Riley, I do joke sometimes, though I admit, normally, no one gets it."

A small smile passed over the man's face. A smile that meant he understood.

"Totally understand. No one gets my jokes either. Remember the leg and Halloween? Not even Anna gets me sometimes, and she gets me more than most."

Okay, he had to smile a little to himself, then he slowly pulled the metal pipes out of his jacket pocket.

"Oh, and here Riley, could you take these? I'm not leaving them here, so they can try to use them again," he said, handing Riley the three metal pipes.

"And, where did you get these?"

"Use your imagination."

Frowning deeply, Riley said, "And I don't like what I'm imagining."

Then Riley put the truck in reverse and backed his back wheels into the ditch across the road. Oliver rolled his disabled bike across the road, as Riley got out of the truck and opened the tailgate. Okay, that was smart, the man was a definitely a problem solver, he thought, as he pushed his disabled motorcycle easily into the back of the truck, using the slope of the ditch and the open tailgate.

Opening the toolbox on the back of the truck, Riley said, "I think I have tie down straps."

"Good deal."

Riley handed him the straps, and he quickly strapped the motorcycle down using the handlebars and the seat as braces and running the straps to the holes in the truck bed. Giving the bike a strong shake and finding it soundly strapped down, he got out of the truck bed, and Riley shut the tailgate.

Getting in the passenger side of the truck and shutting the door, he ask, "Where can I get tires in this town?"

Riley thought for a second as he cranked the truck and put it in gear. "I would take it to O'Riley's Garage, but I would bet he is going to have to order them, since that's not a Harley you're driving."

Oliver reached and checked his phone for the time. "And since it's after five, I would bet they're closed for the day."

"Yeah, I would say so."

Sighing, he frowned, as he thought that this day just kept getting better. A headache was coming on, and he rubbed his forehead.

"Hey, if you want I can drop it off on my way to work tomorrow, and I'll pull the truck into the garage tonight, so it will be safe."

"Thanks, that will save me a tow and could you pull over to that dumpster over there."

Riley lifted an eyebrow at him but he pulled over.

Opening the truck door, he grabbed the metal pipes off the seat, then he stepped out and got rid of the pipes, chunking them into the dumpster with a loud clank and a clatter before he got back into the truck.

"You don't plan to tell Felicity about the metal pipes do you? How can you hide that from her?"

No, he hadn't been planning to mention the pipes to Felicity. It would just upset her. It would upset her that three players from his team intended to take him out, intended to hurt him. So, instead, he said with, "Sure, I'm going to discuss it with her."

"Why don't I believe you?" He looked hard at thim before he said, "And that's not an answer. That's a PTSD answer, vague, avoiding and annoying. You wouldn't have gotten rid of the evidence if you planned to discuss it with her. So why don't you just admit that you never intended to tell her about it?"

Guilt filled him so he answered him with silence.

"And, of course, now you go quiet. PTSD is so predicable that sometimes it pisses me off." Riley tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, before he said, "So, do you keep a lot of things from Felicity or just the things that could endanger her?"

"How dare you say that?" The words just came out, though he knew he'd endangered her repeatedly. But he couldn't tell Riley that three teens with medal pipes didn't compared to the things he and Felicity had been though together.

But Riley's words struck a chord and he found himself trying to force down his anger, trying to force down the rage rising inside him, the very anger that made his tone sharp.

"That's none of your business, and I hear you keep things from Anna too. Felicity's told me."

"Not important things. Not metal pipes and slashed tires kind of things. Do you know what this looks like to me?" His face intense, Riley frowned at him.

Frankly, he didn't care. Sometimes it seemed that it had been easier when he was single. But he wanted this relationship with her and he knew Felicity wanted to be friends with Anna, so he had to at least try to get along with Riley.

"Look, Riley, Felicity already knows that something happened. Believe me, she understands, and I don't see a reason to worry her. She knows I can handle myself. And I was never in any real danger. They were lucky I didn't really hurt them."

Riley exploded. "They were lucky? My imagination is telling me that at least three of your soccer team tried to attack you with metal pipes and you just shrug it off, like this is no big deal? It's okay because you were never in any REAL danger? You've got a really big ego thing going on here don't you?"

The rage wanted to engulf him. But he forced it back.

"Now, that's the pot calling the kettle black." And he looked hard at Riley, before he said, "You've been having a pissing contest with me since we met."

"Maybe I have. I'll admit that something about you makes me competitive. But just who the hell are you, Oliver? I thought you had a flat not gotten your tires slashed. Don't you get that those teenagers," he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, "premeditated putting you out of commission."

"I never said it was teenagers."

Riley said forcefully, as he turned left and then changed lanes, "No, you've said just as little as possible. I've told you before that PTSD is dependable. We evade the question. We misdirect the question. We ignore the question. And you're the one that told me to use my imagination. Well, let me tell you it's working overtime here."

"And your," he had to pause and shut his eyes before he said, "PTSD is showing too."

Riley pressed his lips together, then stopped at a red light and turned his head and looked him straight in the eye before he said, "Okay, maybe it is, but those teenagers clearly planned to beat you with metal pipes and then leave you stranded."

"You're right they did. But they didn't get the job done. I took care of it."

"And just makes it all okay, huh? Well, let me tell you that it takes a certain amount of darkness to plan something like that. One or more of your soccer players are dangerous. Now, our problems aside, what I'm worried about right now is my wife is working with these very same teenagers and that she's going in a room alone with these very same teenagers."

"I see your point, but I doubt they would go after Anna since she's not forcing them play soccer, like I am."

"Not funny, Oliver, and neither is the fact that on your third day of soccer practice, three of your players attack you with metal pipes. Or where there more of them?"

"No, just three and they never hit me, Riley. Look, Warren warned me that these teens don't want to play soccer and that the last coach quit. Really, Felicity and I expected this attack."

The light changed and he snorted then said, "You expected them to attack you with metal pipes? But, of course you did. And who the hell are you, Oliver because you're not Special Forces."

His eyes narrowed. "Why couldn't I be Special Forces?"

"Because I am. And you're just not." The look Riley gave him was candid. "No, you're something else. Something a lot darker. You're someone that has seen so much that something like three teens attacking you with metal pipes barely raises a blip on your radar. You're way too calm about this."

Oliver knew he was quite dark, and yes, he'd seen and experienced a lot, so not knowing what to say, he kept quiet.

"I don't know what happened to you on that island or how you got all those scars, Oliver, but it had to be life altering."

Again, he didn't answer. No instead, his hand reached into his pocket to find her hair tie, to finger her hair tie, as he tried to keep the memories at bay, as he tried to stop the memories from the island that wanted to flood him mind. He had to kept control here.

"Hey, Oliver, are you all right? Listen to me. You're breathing is getting too shallow. I'm going to roll the window down. I want you to put your hand out the window. I'm sorry. But you need to come back now."

The memories wanted to suck him down. He could see Sara dying. He could see Slade torturing him. He could see him killing Slade.

"Oliver, listen to me. I want you to stick your hand out the window into the cool air, try to ground yourself to here. Listen to me. You're in my truck. Look at the dash."

"I'm here." He was struggling to make it the truth, but he put his hand out the window and felt the cooler air, rushing past his hand, helping him ground himself to here.

"No, really, I want you look around and see now, see the inside of the truck, see the radio, see the clock. You're here, Oliver, not there."

He scrubbed his face. "I'm fine. I'm here."

Riley continued. "Good, I apologize, Oliver. I should have known that talking about the island would be a trigger for you. I should've have mentioned it."

"No, really it's fine."

"Stop lying to me. I know better. I recognize the signs. You were flashing."

"Flashing?"

"Yes, that's what I call it. You were having a flashback, going back to a traumatic time in your life. I understand that things, a word, a sound, a smell or a memory can trigger your flashbacks and suddenly you're there."

Riley looked hard at him and then looked away before he said, "I have them too, Oliver. I fight them everyday. I hate the 4th of July. But it gets better. If you just keep trying, it gets better."

"Really?" He wanted to believe that. He so wanted to believe that he could get better, that things could change.

"Yes, really but you have to work for it to get better. But now I really think you should tell Felicity about those kids attacking you with metal pipes. She has the right to know."

"I never said she didn't."

"What if these same kids decided to get to you by going after Felicity, and she had no warning she was even in danger? You would never forgive yourself if something happened to her and you didn't warn her."

Now the man had his attention.

"I can keep her safe." But his mind wasn't so sure. He knew the house they were living in was too open, and he needed to beef up security at the house. Biting his lip for an instant, he knew he needed to add some trip wires, some cameras, and put a better lock on the door. He just hoped that this was the end of his team trying to get out of playing soccer. One thing, he knew for sure was that he still intended to punish the two he knew for sure had attacked him.

"You're not superman, Oliver, though I'm beginning to wonder if you really realize that. And guess what, you can't always be there."

"I know that."

"Well you're not acting like you know it. And if you don't tell Felicity that's your decision. But I'm warning my wife, Oliver. I love Anna dearly, and I need her to be safe. I really don't know if I could live without her anymore."

He pulled into a driveway. Putting the truck into park, he shut the engine off . Turning in his seat, he said, "So, you do what you want, but I'm telling my WIFE about these bad teenagers. Anna's my woman, my special woman who is more than willing to lay down with me, a man with no legs and touch not just my body but my heart. It takes a special woman to love people like us, Oliver. People with scars inside and out are hard to love you know? You should see the statistics of PTSD and divorce rates."

"I know that, Riley. You don't have to tell me Felicity's special or that I'm damaged. I'm well aware of it."

Unbuckling his seat belt, he said quietly, "You're missing the point, Oliver. I maybe damaged but I'm coping. And from where I'm sitting it looks like you could use some help coping. But you do what you want. Me, I'm going to warn Anna that three of those little juvenile delinquents she's been counseling, ganged up on their new soccer coach, trying to beat him with METAL PIPES the first week of practice. And I'm going to tell her that those kids slashed your tires beforehand, which means they fully intended to leave you bleeding and helpless. I'm not going to keep her in the dark like you're doing to Felicity. I'm going to warn her so she can take extra precautions."

Riley looked him hard in the eye before he said, "I can't afford to take a chance with my wife, Oliver. I can't because, even if it took me a long time, a really long time to allow her to love me, I've finally figured out that I need her in my life."

Then Riley opened the door and got out.

"Wait."

He stepped out of the truck and felt the weight on his shoulders. Knowing that Riley was going to tell on him, he straightened his spine. This man made him terribly angry.

Riley turned and frowned at him.

"Okay, you're right, not telling Felicity would put her at risk. So, I'll tell her, but just not in front of Anna. I don't want to answer the questions. You tell your wife whatever you want. And you're right I'm not Special Forces."

"Then what are you?"

Damaged, he thought but he said, "If you told you what I was I would have to kill you."

"Joke right?"

"Right." But he wasn't sure he was joking. Riley was causing him a lot of grief lately.

"And, Oliver, that's the most honest you've been with me yet. There may be hope for you yet."

Stopping at the mailbox, Riley growled a little as pulled a couple envelopes out and said, "I don't think we're ever going to get Anna's student loans paid off. Do you have school loans?"

"No." Oliver didn't elaborate, as he took in the nice house in the nice neighborhood. Following Riley up the steps, he was surprised that the man didn't lock his door, when Riley swung his unlocked front door open, yelling, "Honey, I'm home. Mission accomplished."

"My hero," Anna yelled back at him. "We're back here, outside on the patio."

"Oliver, straight through. I'm going to change and if you don't mind, take my legs off and use the chair. It's something I do in the evenings, like taking my shoes off kind of thing, and if we're going to hang out you're going to see me without them, so let's just get it over with."

He understood, and he thought about having your leg legs being blown off. His mind thought about all the adjustments and how much Riley had been through, as he said, "I think I'll be okay with it, but I'll just warn you that Felicity will probably make some truthful comment about you not having legs. She's just like that. Her babble just comes out sometimes. She just can't control it."

Riley gave a short laugh and said, "I noticed that at lunch, and I think I can handle whatever she says. It's just part of my life now. And my stumps aren't always happy, and if I get off them at night it helps keep my legs from bothering me the next day. I hate it, but after a while I have to give them a break."

"Okay."

And Riley turned and disappeared down a hall. Taking a minute, he looked about to get a feel of Riley's and Anna's house. Recon started in his head. Bright splashes of modern art on the wall, worn couch, low countertops in the kitchen, no doubt so Riley could reach them from the chair. He noted several scruffs on the walls, also probably caused by the chair. Some clutter here and there, newspapers piled up on the corner end table. Psychology text books in the bookcase. Also there was poetry and some fiction books. One spot at the end of the kitchen table with no chair, probably Riley's spot when he used the chair.

A few dishes in the sink and the pictures of both of them stuck on the refrigerator with magnets. He glanced for a minute and took in their happy faces, then he turned away with a thought that maybe he could also continue to have happy, then he turned toward the voices on the patio, toward his happy, his Felicity.

As soon, as he stepped out the door, Felicity's eyes swept him and he nodded slightly, knowing she was looking for injuries that she was checking for blood. He raised his hand to wave and said, "Hi, Anna."

"Oliver." She gave a slight wave and gestured for him to sit. "Well what happened?"

"Vandalism happened. It's nothing that some new tires won't fix. How did the two of you spend the day?"

Felicity, thankfully, began talking of shopping and the moment passed.

Riley wheeled up in his wheelchair, and Felicity couldn't help it, he knew she couldn't help it but she so made him smile, as she said, "Riley, you've not as tall as you were before. For the first time, I'M TALLER than a big guy."

Then she threw her hand over her mouth and crinkled her nose before she said, "And I said that out loud didn't I?"

And everyone laughed.

#####OQ#####

They had stayed a couple of hours and were driving home when she reached and laid her hand on top of his hand on the shifter. Yes, she laced her fingers between his, rubbing his hand, bringing a small smile to his face.

"Thanks for coming to Riley and Anna's tonight. I know you're struggling with being around Riley. I know he's pushing you. I guess I'm pushing you too."

And he thought and yeah, maybe he was struggling around Anna too. It was so odd, he had never cared if his girlfriends had friends but now when Felicity was around Anna, he felt very alone again. But he knew he was being selfish, wanting to be the center of her world, so he said "You're right and everyone is pushing me right now. But you're welcome. I'm glad you've made a friend. I understand you need friends, and Anna seems nice."

"Yeah, Anna's smart and very amazing. She's not into computers but she has a great sense of humor, and we just seemed to click. Which is totally weird since I normally don't get along with women most of the time, but this time just seems right."

"I'm glad." He forced himself to say.

"I'm not sure you are, but, okay, thanks for trying for me. Now tell me what's really bothering you? You've been a little off all night and way too quiet. I mean you're normally quiet but you've been past quiet, even for you. What are you brooding about? The bike? The team attacking you? What?"

She gave his hand a slight squeeze, and he downshifted and pulled into their driveway. Setting the parking break, he put the car in neutral and carefully pulled his hand from under hers, so he could kill the engine.

He put his hands on the steering wheel before he said, "Felicity, we both know some of my team members are already headed down a dark path."

"Yes, not nice kids, some of them are really not nice, not nice at all. What really happened today, Oliver?"

"Someone slashed both of the tires on my bike and then when I came out of the gym, three of them in ski masks and hoodies tried to take me out."

Frowning, she said, "Well that wasn't very bright of them was it?"

That was his girl, his woman. And pride filled him. Riley just didn't understand the history between them. "No, you're right. I disarmed them pretty quickly."

"What were they armed with?"

"Metal pipes. And Riley knows now."

"And he's concerned about Anna working with them no doubt."

"And he's concerned that they might go after you, Felicity, as a way to get to me."

"You know I'm not helpless. So, what do you want to do about this threat?"

"We need to either move to a safer location or make this one safer. This house is too out in the open and too hard to defend."

"I like this house, it's special since it's our first real home, and of course, I drown here, which sucked, but I try not to think about that, so let's get some tech and set up a perimeter. You should call John and get his input."

He had to smile before he said, "I guess I can. He talks to me some now."

"Okay, and I will just be really careful." She gave him one of her light filled smiles then said, "Now do you want to eat some ice cream and watch a movie with me?" She reached and touched his face before she said, "I know we can't have sex, but I still want to spend time with you. I love you, Oliver."

"I'd like that." And he pulled her to him and kissed her softly then released her before he took it to a place that Mae hadn't okayed.

"I need you," she said as breathed softly against his skin, still clinging to him.

"I need you too. I'm really past wanting you. How about we forget Mae's orders?"

"How did I go without you so long? And no."

"I have no idea. But you're torturing me so let's go watch that movie."

Entering the house, he washed his hands and then scooped up the ice cream. She disappeared into the bedroom and then she went and changed into her cute pjs, the ones he really wanted to take them off of her. But she just grinned at him, then found something to stream on her tablet, as she magically made the movie appear on the large screen TV in the living room.

Sinking into the couch, he handed her a bowl of ice cream, and she snuggled close, as he ate a few bites and tried to pay attention to the movie. Setting the bowl down on the coffee table, he stretched out and drifted away for a moment content.

He was back in the water, back looking for her, diving repeatedly. The tide had taken her away. He was searching for her. Diving and diving and there was only the black water, only the tide. Screaming her name, he kept looking for her.

"Oliver," she was shaking him. "I'm right here. Wake up. It's okay."

Jerking straight up, he almost dumped her on to the floor in his haste. Not in the water, he told himself.

The movie was still playing. She was talking to him. He could smell her and his heart pumped hard. His ice cream had melted into a brown puddle in the bowl, which meant he had been out for a little while.

"Shh, it's okay," she was assuring him. "Go back to sleep. I'm right here." And he wrapped his arms around her and just held his special woman close, but he didn't sleep.

#####OQ#####

"Could you leave the door open?" He was at the doctor's office and this room seemed too close, too tiny. And he could feel his anxiety rising.

"Mae should be in soon." Said the nurse, who had just taken his blood pressure and frowned. The woman just shook her head as she left the door open.

Felicity was sitting in a chair in the corner, playing on her tablet, and he was pacing the small space, so ready to get out of here.

"Oliver, you're driving me crazy. Could you just stop pacing?"

"I can't."

"You can. Just have a seat."

He knew he was irritating her, so he forced himself to lean against the examination table, forced himself to stop.

Finally, Mae swept into the room, and she frowned too.

"Oliver, you have white coat hypertension today. And your log numbers still suck. I'm upping your dosage."

"White coat hypertension?"

Felicity looked up from her tablet and said, "It mean's your blood pressure goes up in the doctor's office. Mae, please don't stress him. Just being in this room has been hard enough."

Trust Felicity to know what that meant. And how did he get so lucky that she would want someone like him?

"Point taken, Felicity. Okay, Oliver would you get up on the examination table?"

He forced himself to sit and allowed Mae to listen to his chest.

"Breath deeply for me. How much are you sleeping?"

"About the same."

"Which means what? Remember, don't lie to me."

He didn't want Felicity to know that he was only sleeping a few hours a day, and he noted that she was looking at him intently, waiting on him to answer.

"Felicity," Mae said, "Leave the room. He's not going to honest with you here."

"No, she can stay." Panic filled him for some absurd reason at the thought of her leaving him alone in this room. No, he felt better having her there.

"Then tell the truth. I'm overbooked this morning and you're the work in, so I don't have time for lies."

"Okay, three or four hours. You want me to sleep more than okay me to have sex."

Felicity reddened and looked at the floor, and Mae gave a slight grin before she ask, "Are the nightmares any better yet?"

"No. When can I go back to exercising?"

"I'm going to up your dosage to five milligrams, every morning and night. I can't see where the one is helping at all, and you're a big guy. You can just go ahead and take five pills and use up the prescription you already have. How's the fatigue been?"

"I'm dragging and you haven't answered the question."

"Well, expect to really tired the first couple of days with the higher dosage. And I want you back in here on early next week for another follow up. Make the appointment for Tuesday."

"Stop toying with me, Mae."

"I'm not. I'm helping you live to have sex into your sixties instead of having sex now and dying in your thirties. Now, keep your log, keep taking it easy, and Felicity make sure he tells the truth about his blood pressure readings."

And Oliver groaned as Mae quit the room and it was all he could do to stop himself from punching the wall in frustration.

Felicity gathered her things and stood and gave him a slight smile. Then she walked over to him and stepped into his personal space, as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm being punished here too you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"You're going to get better, Oliver. You just have to give the medicine time to work."

"I love how calm you're being about the no sex thing." He couldn't stop the dark tone that came into his voice.

"Calm is hardly the word for the way I'm feeling right now. And just think I left my panties home for nothing. Darn, Mae for saying no."

His mouth went dry, as he ran his hands down her back and over her ass to find that what she said was true. She wasn't wearing any panties.

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill me off? Cause right now it's working." He gave her ass a squeeze, knowing he was teasing her back.

And of course, she said, "If I wanted to kill you off, we'd be having sex right now. We're just going to have to pretend that we're teenagers that can't have sex yet."

"You keep teasing me and you're to go wake up with me inside you."

She raised up on her toes and nipped his ear, as she said, "Promises, promises." Then she laughed the way he loved, as she pulled away from him and headed out the door.

And with a slight grin, he followed her sexy butt out of the room.

#####OQ#####

Later that afternoon, he watched the team file into practice. Scott was almost late and walked straight up to him and as he handed over his phone, he said, "Jordan's sick, and Malone has a doctor's appointment, so they're out today."

Scott eyes were filled with contempt, clearly this wasn't over yet. Well that's what he got for hoping for he knew better. And, he could tell Scott had just drawn a line in the sand here, which answered the question of who had attacked him, since they where skipping practice to avoid him.

"Tell Malone his wrist isn't broken this time. Next time, he won't be so lucky. The same for Jordan. And Scott, if you try me again, you're going to jail, but for now, you get to run laps for practice. Kicking the ball is a privilege. So take off."

The look Scott gave him was filled with pure hate. "And if I don't."

"You will address me as coach." He said the words loudly, intending to get the other's attention. He needed to nip this foolishness in the bud now. Heads were turning. His team was watching the exchange.

"Then I keep your phone." He paused for affect. "And you go to jail, real jail. Push me and I'll file charges, and you rich little life will be over. Think I'll also have that fancy car impounded too."

Scott's face turned red, and he could tell the young man wanted to attack him, but the teen must have decided his phone, his car and his freedom were better than jail, for he turned and walked toward the track.

Yet, he said nothing to the team about the attack. No, instead, he started practice as usual by stretching the team out, and then he split them into small groups and had them pass the ball back and forth for a while and practice trapping. Some of them were getting better. And he kept an eye on Scott running slow laps knowing the teen was running, but he ran slowly clearly still defying him.

Phil wasn't on top of his game today. He was clumsy and kept missing the ball. Finally he pulled him to the side.

"Are you drinking today?"

"No, but I don't feel well."

"Hold out your hands."

Phil's hands clearly had the shakes.

"Coach, I'm going to be sick. I need to go to the bathroom."

"Go on then."

Practice continued, but Phil didn't come back. He called Russell over. "Phil went to the bathroom. He didn't feel well, so go and check on him."

"Coach, he's probably just passed out. It's Phil."

Irritation filled him that everyone just accepted that Phil was a fifteen-year-old drunk.

"Did I tell you do something?" His tone was dark.

"Yes, coach. I'm going right now."

A few minutes later, Russell returned, running, with panic in his voice, as he said, "Coach, Phil's on the floor of the bathroom. I think he's having a seizure."

"Tyler, take over the team. Keep them working the ball!"

He ran to the locker room where Phil was indeed having a seizure. Knowing there was nothing he could do but wait the seizure out, he reached for his phone. Going to his call list, he flipped back to that unknown number from a couple days ago and pressed connect.

"Hello, Oliver. What can I do for you today?"

Okay, she'd put his number in her phone. But of course, she had, probably so she could call and harass him again. So she could tell him he was going to stay another week celibate.

"Mae, I've got a fifteen-year-old male having a seizure at practice."

"Is he epileptic?" Mae's voice was intense.

"I don't think so. What he is a drunk. And I told him to stop drinking a couple of days ago, or I'd send him to rehab. So I guess he took me to heart."

"You're thinking alcohol withdraw?"

"Yeah, I am. He had the shakes and was sick to his stomach."

"How much does he normally drink?"

"Too much from the looks of it. He looked bad when he came to practice. I think he's been drinking too much for a while. All the kids know he's a drunk. Call him one"

"Does he have fever?"

He reached and touched his forehead. "Yes, he's hot."

"I'm dispatching an ambulance. Any idea where one of his parents are?"

Okay, he knew this. Felicity had drilled him on this, repeatedly.

"Mother's dead. Father works the . . . the shrimp boats." Yeah, that was right. "Has an older brother. Wait, I have his phone. I would bet there is a contact number for one of them."

"Okay, you try to find the father, but we're going to treat without a signature. This kid could die from alcohol withdrawal. His brain doesn't know what to do without the liquor."

"The seizure seems to be about over now."

"Then roll him on his side to keep his airway clear."

"I'm going to put you on speaker phone."

"Okay."

Phil suddenly cried out, "Mom, is that you? Mom."

"Phil, you're sick. It's Coach Queen. Look, Mae he's really not all here."

"Get them off of me." Phil was panicked now and was slapping at himself. Rolling around on the floor, he was twisting and moving.

Mae sad, "He's having DT's, and he thinks bugs or spiders are on him. It's a sign of alcohol withdraw. He must have been drinking a lot, a very lot and for a long time. Restrain him if you can, Oliver. He could hurt himself."

Oliver pulled the thin young man easily into his arms and sat on the floor and held him, restrained him, rocked him, as Phil twisted and screamed and yelled for his dead mother to save him, as he pleaded to get the bugs off him.

The paramedics had arrived now, and Mae barked orders. "Get an IV in his arm. Joe, how much do you think he weights?"

"About 150 from the looks of him."

"Okay, let's hit him with 15 mg of liquid midazolam and see if that helps. Mark the time, Wayne. If he's not better in five minutes, I'll up the dose. Call me back if needed, if not I'll meet you in the ER. Oliver, find me the father."

"Can you keep holding him?" asked Joe.

"I've got him." Though Phil was fighting him, he held him easily.

"What's his name?"

"Phil."

"Phil, I need to put an IV in your arm."

But Phil was fighting them, screaming.

"Wayne, help me. You hold his arm."

Between the two men, they managed to get his arm stationary, and Joe said, "Okay, Phil. You're going to feel a small stick."

Phil screamed and cursed but he held him, as Phil raged, clearly out of his head.

"Shh," he found himself saying gently. He couldn't help himself. He was rocking the boy like a child, as he said, "It's going to be okay. I've got you. Come on calm down. You're strong, Phil. You're going to beat this and get better."

The minutes crawled, as the teen twisted and fought. But as the fifth minute arrived, like magic, Phil calmed beneath his hands, as the drug put him down. And he could release him.

"Let's get him loaded while the drug's working. Oh, and nice to see you're feeling well today, Oliver. But seriously, you're good for business but we've got to stop meeting like this."

"Wayne, you've got a point."

You know you and I should get together and have a beer sometime?"

"Yeah, we'll have to do that." And he couldn't stop the small smile, as he nodded his head at the man.

He stood slowly and sighed. Picking up his phone, he checked the time, then pocketed his phone. Heading to the locker room, he found Ned killing time playing on his phone.

"I need Phil's phone. He's had a seizure and the paramedics just loaded him up. He's headed to the ER right now, and I need to contact his dad."

"Eli's boat might be back in maybe."

"You know him?"

"We went to school together. Was a real shame when he crawled in a bottle after Nancy died. I wasn't surprised when Phil got in trouble." Ned was searching through the bags that held the cell phones until he came up with the bag that held Phil's phone, and he handed it to him.

Flipping through the contact numbers, he found the one that said Dad the Jerk, and he had to grin a little as he hit connect.

The phone rang four times before a gruff angry voice answered. "You better not be in trouble again, Phil. And I told you I'm broke until Friday."

"It this Eli Rice?"

"Who wants to know and what are you doing with my kid's phone?"

"Mr. Rice, my name is Oliver Queen. I'm Phil's soccer coach."

"What's he done now?" He heard the complete disgust in the man's voice.

"Phil is headed to the ER. He's had a seizure and seems to be in alcohol withdraw. Have you made dock yet? You need to come to the hospital as soon as you can."

"We're coming into dock now. And what do you mean he in alcohol withdraw? Why would he be in alcohol withdraw? Phil's not been drinking, not since the last time he got in trouble."

He couldn't stop the small laugh before he said, "How can you not be aware of how much your son has been drinking?"

"My son's habits are none of your business."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm his soccer coach now, and he's part of my team, and he's not playing drunk. I warned him yesterday that he either sobers up, or I'm having the judge send him to rehab."

"My kid doesn't need rehab. I tell you he's not drinking."

He could hear the pure anger in the man's voice. "Look, I understand that no parent would want to believe their fifteen-year-old is drinking. Not just drinking but drinking so much that when he tried to stop it threw him into withdraw. Your son's life is in danger, you may not want to believe that but it's true."

"If it true then he had to be getting the booze from one of those no good friends of his."

Oliver, shut his eyes, remembering what a war zone Phil's house was. "Mr. Rice, Phil admitted to me yesterday that he was stealing the liquor from you."

Silence answered him then the man said in a small voice, "I'll be there as soon as I can get there." Then the man broke the connection.

And, Oliver went back to the rest of his team and sent Trevor to go and get Scott. He waited while Trevor went and got Scott and then called the team together. He was glad to see Scott's face was red and he was gasping some. It served him right.

And his sentence wasn't over. Scott didn't know it, but he fully intended to make him and his two partners in crime run for several days, maybe all next week. Yeah, he was going to run them into the ground. Those three were going to find out that it was a privilege to kick the ball. Hmm, he liked that a lot.

"Quiet up now. I have an announcement. Phil's sick and he's going to be in the hospital for a few days. He's stopped drinking and needs some help with it."

"Yeah, right. He'll be back drunk at school tomorrow." Came a voice from the back of the group.

"Can that attitude. We're a team here, a unit, and what Phil needs right now is your support not your sarcasm. And if he does go back to drinking, he's headed to rehab. I warning all of you don't come to practice high or drunk. I will catch you, and I'll have you court ordered into rehab for months."

The look he gave them was hard.

"And I know all of know that three of you tried to jump me yesterday and how well that worked out for Jordan and Malone. One more of you ran and is standing here right now."

The look he gave Scott let nothing to the imagination. And, yeah, he could tell from their body language that they all knew who had tried him.

"So, let me make this clear. Yesterday was the one and only freebie, and if any of you come after me or anyone I love, or my house, or my car, or my bike again, you'll more than regret it."

Then he ran them all hard, pushed them and yes, probably himself too, and they were quiet as they finished practice. And he found hismself glad it was almost Friday, for this week had become exhausting. He eyed each of them hard, as they collected their phones and jewelry after practice.

Finally, the locker room was empty. Looking at the full laundry hamper, he sighed deeply and thought that this coaching thing was turning into a real job. He wanted to go and check on Phil, so he would have to leave the team's laundry until tomorrow.

Walking out of the building, he noted that no one was attacking him today and the car was just as he had left it. His bike would be out of commission for a couple of days. Then he found himself hoping that this was the end of his team trying to get out of playing soccer, and shook his head. What was it with him and hoping lately? He really needed to get over that.

Putting his phone out, he texted the news to Felicity. She was at the hospital working on the network today and he had to pick her up anyway. But he wanted to check on Phil first.

His phone pinged and he read. "C u in ICU. I know u know the way."

Thumbs flying he wrote. "Not funny."

Of course, she texted back, "At least it's not me or u!" with little hearts and smiley faces and made him smile, for she was so right.

When he reached the car, he was glad to see all four tires were up and no one had keyed the side of it. At least, not today, he thought.

Arriving at the hospital, he was surprised when he walked into the intensive care waiting room and eight of his team where there.

"Hey, coach, we just thought we'd check on him," said Adrian.

"Yeah, me too. Can I wait with you guys?"

Dean stood and offered him his seat, and Oliver thought just maybe there was some hope for these teens after all, just as Felicity entered the room in a smoking hot red sundress and took his arm. Flashing him one of those great smiles, she graced each of the young men in the room with that light that was her.

Then demanded, "Oliver, and who are these handsome gentlemen who have with you?"

And as he watched, right before his eyes, every one of them just fell in love or more like probably in lust with his girl.

But who could blame them? But still that strange feeling of possessiveness filled him, and he reached and put his arm around her and said, "Guys, let me introduce you to my fiancée, Felicity Smoak."

#####OQ#####

Okay, my readers thanks for the read. Again you know the drill. Hope to hear from at least a few of you. And I love it when you take the time to talk to me. So do it. Review! So many read and so few talk. No one could accuse this forum of being a "Chatty Kathy" LOL


	29. Chapter 29

For PersianArrow, IsaboeOfLumatere, and uconnhuskiesfan2001

To all, I'm sorry this chapter has been so late. I couldn't find the way, so to speak. Then I was making real head way and someone unplugged my laptop, and I got up to hours of work being a blank document. (I have since replaced my battery!!) Many, many, many thanks to PersianArrow who reminded me how to recover some of the lost work, so all was not lost. But enough editing is enough. I hope you enjoy! And Happy Holidays all!

#####OQ#####

Mae stuck her head in the waiting room. "Oliver, could I have a word with you?"

He gave Felicity a hard look, and she waved him away with her hand, "Go on, Oliver. I'll be fine. I'm sure these nice young men and I can visit for a few minutes without you. It'll be all right."

Looking hard in her eyes, he gave a sharp nod before he added, "If you're sure. But these nice young men better mind their manners." He turned and eyed each of them before he stated, "I won't tolerate any disrespect toward my woman. Just look at me, each and every one of you. You disrespect my woman, for that fact, any woman, and I'll show you just how far I can run, and you'll be taking every step beside me. Do we have an understanding?"

Felicity, herself, almost winced from his hard look and his dark tone that brooked no disagreement, she understood that look that said he wasn't going to tolerate any disrespect, and he would run them into the ground if they tried anything.

"Yes, Coach," said several of them, while the others just nodded in agreement. Then she watched him give each of them a hard look before he turned and walked out the door, shutting the door solidly behind him.

Felicity smiled at each of the young men and some of them smiled back, others' well not so much. Oliver's warning seemed to be still hanging in the air, souring the mood. Well, she would just have to do something about that.

Turning to the first teen, she thrust out her small hand and smiled at a red head, who was short and stocky, and wore thick glasses and then said, "Well that was intense, and your name is?"

The smile he returned was small, as he said, "Coach seems to be like that, intense I mean, but I guess you would know that about him, Ma'am, since you're going to marry him. I'm Nick Mitchell. And, it's nice to meet you."

Gripping her hand carefully, he gave her a small genuine smile that warmed her before he released her hand.

"Yes, you could say that Oliver, I mean Coach is a little extreme, forceful. Okay he's very extreme at times. But please, don't call me, ma'am. It makes me feel old and strange." She made a weird face at him before she said, "And oh, yes, Nick, I've seen you around. Don't you work at Bill's Grocery store, along with your grandmother? I think I've seen you there."

Yes, she and Oliver had cased the place doing recon, if you could call going to a grocery store repeatedly casing the place. But they had because Oliver had insisted, so she knew Nick worked there, just like she knew he was a kid who was working to help his grandmother and that most of his money was going toward the household and helping support his three younger sisters.

"Yes, ma'am. I sack groceries and push carts and Grandma cashiers."

"Push carts? And again don't call me Ma'am. You're making me feel ancient by calling me Ma'am. No, call me Felicity instead."

The young red head shook his head. "No, Ma'am, I mean I don't think Coach would like it, and he might think I'm being disrespectful and he likes to run way more than I do."

"He likes to run way more than I do too, but alright, I see your point. Felicity might be a bit too casual for Coach. How about Ms. Smoak? No, maybe not that either. You young men are making me feel so old. And I'm too young to be old. But you need to call me something, for I have a feeling we will see each other again at games and such."

She shook her head and frowned.

"How about Ms. Felicity?" Nick said, with a real grin and several of the others nodded.

"Works for me. Now what was that about pushing carts?"

"Have you never been to a grocery store? Pushing carts means that you go and round up the grocery carts and push them back into the store. Mindless job," said another slightly chunky young man.

"Of course, she's been to a grocery store. Don't be rude, and since your dissing my job, where do you work Marcus?"

She smiled as Nick glared hard at the 5'2 brown headed young man named Marcus and was proud that he had defended her. Maybe, these teens weren't all bad, no matter what their files looked like. But she could also feel the immediate dislike that simmered between the two teens.

Note to self, tell Oliver these Marcus and Nick were not friends, no, not friends at all if their body language meant anything, they were ready to rip each other apart.

In her head, she ticked him off her little juvenile delinquent list, as she realized that this was Marcus Wright. This young man was in trouble for repeated truancy, resisting arrest, and repeated possession of tobacco on school grounds, and as he stepped closer, she wrinkled her nose a little bit, thinking Marcus hadn't learned a thing since he smelled like stale cigarettes. She'd bet he didn't want to run either.

"At home." His tone was not apologetic, no it was defensive. "It's called babysitting my two little brothers, so Dad can work nights and the power gets to stays on. We don't have a check from my sick grandfather like you do."

"I'd shut my mouth about my sick grandfather if I were you, but we could talk about your dead-beat mom." Nick took a step toward Marcus, his stance clearly threatening.

"Easy, Nick, no since in being ugly. And Marcus, he's right shut your mouth about his grandfather. We all know he's got cancer." A dark head, six foot, lean young man stood and gave both of them a look that said clearly they'd better not start anything in front of her.

"Stay out of it, Tyler." Marcus gave a wave of his hand, clearly dismissing the teen. "And Nick, I wasn't dissing your dying grandfather, I'm just saying you know I can't get a job. Jees, both of you give me a break. Nick, who's watching your sisters tonight?"

"Grandpa, but just shut up Marcus, Ms. Felicity doesn't care."

"Sure I do. And Nick, I've heard your grandfather is sick, that's terrible and it's hard on families when people are sick and everyone has to help out."

Nick just looked at the floor, and she broke the silence with the words. "Coach and I understand that each of you has real responsibilities, that some of you have things you have to do every day other than school."

"Yeah, and now we have to go to court ordered soccer practice on top of everything else, when I have better things to do." A blonde young man's bitter words snapped out into the air.

"And you are?" She turned toward a blonde solid young man that she had to look up at and extended her hand.

"Adrian Herron. And for your info, soccer practice has gotten my hours at the superstore cut to almost nothing." His voice was dark and not only did he ignore her extended hand, he took a small step back away from her.

Okay, she thought this one was Oliver's Michael trigger, and this teen wasn't friendly, no, not friendly in the least.

But she still said in a cheerful voice, "Well, that sucks, but it's nice to meet you, Adrian." Dropping her hand, she went on to say, "Though you need to give soccer and your coach a chance. You might find out that like playing soccer and the game might turn out to be fun."

Yet, he just shrugged, crossed his arms in front of his broad chest before he barked the words, "Haven't seen much fun so far. Just kicking the ball and running constantly. Where's the fun in that?"

"It's called being healthy and if you'd stop smoking, the running isn't that bad and you might even enjoy it." Tyler gave him a grin and got a grimace in return.

With the words, "I doubt it."

"Well, look on the bright side, Adrian, the next time you run from the cops you might just get away." A large young man, who was playing on his phone, said from the back of the room.

"Fu," The young man caught himself then said, "Screw you, Alonzo and you too, Tyler."

"No, thanks, I'm screwed enough already." Tyler said with a small sigh.

Silence answered him.

It was like everyone in the room knew he was right. As the silence became uncomfortable, she broke the quiet with the words, "Okay, moving on. I think all of you should know that Coach Queen understands that all of you have your own issues, that each of you have your own responsibilities, but right now playing soccer is one of your responsibilities."

"Speaking of responsibilities," Nick checked his watch. "I wish they'd hurry up and tell us something about Phil. I'm going to have to roll pretty soon. Dad has to go to work and he'll be piss. . . err, mad if I'm late."

"Got brats to watch, poor, Nick. Feel for you but I can't quite reach you. But, I can text you later if you want."

"Of course, you feel for me. Thanks, Alonzo." The words were said with a roll of his eyes and with no anger. Surprised, she realized that there was no anger. No, she could tell these two were friends of long standing.

"And you are?" She turned toward the very large, dark haired, young man. A young man, who looked full grown weighing in at about 230, but she knew he wasn't. He was a teen trapped in a youth's body.

"Alonzo Garcia, Ma'am, I mean Ms. Felicity." He gave her a slight nod of his dark head.

"Nice to meet you. So, no brats for you to watch?"

Even though she knew already that he did. Yes, he had brats to watch.

But the smile she gave him was genuine, as he carefully took her small hand in his very large hand, and she noted that he was so careful not to crush her tiny hand in his massive one. He was so gentle he surprised her, as she remembered that his arrest had gotten ugly, and he had gotten a disorderly conduct and a resisting arrest. And it made her wonder what had set this seemly gentle giant off.

"Oh, yeah, got three brats. Dad drives a truck right now, so we don't see him much. Grandma cuts hair, so, yeah, sometimes, I have to keep an eye on my little sister and my twin brothers."

"You have twin brothers? I bet they're a real handful."

"Yeah, they are but Grandma's tough as nails. She keeps them in line."

"Didn't stop you from getting in trouble. What'd Grandma say about your DWI?" said, a young man with a bright red shirt and almost purple hair.

"A lot but she still got the public pretender to get the precursor to bust my charge down to public drunk. What about you, Dean? Anyone stand up for you after you got caught on camera keying the principal's car?"

"Shut your mouth, you know I got a bad rap. I was just standing up for Naomi when I got in trouble."

"Public pretender? You keyed the principal's car?" She asked with wonder in her voice since that small fact had been left out of the Dean's file. Plus, these kids seemed to have their own language, and she was struggling to keep up.

"Oh, yeah, dummy didn't realize that was a camera in the school's parking lot."

"You've got room to talk, Markus. How did trying to rob the pizza place work out for you? You're just lucky you're still a minor." Both Dean and Markus were leaning in and she could feel the tension, the anger, radiating off of both of them.

Tyler gave both of the two a hard look, a clear warning, as he stood and stepped between the two of them. Then he said, "Ms. Felicity a public pretender is what we call the public defenders that we all used in the court system."

"You know the free lawyer that pretends to represent us so the court system can push our cases though," said a tall young dark headed young man.

Who then held out his hand and gave her a firm handshake, before he released her hand as he said as he pointed toward himself, "I'm David Lopes, and I'm a perfect example of how well the court system works. I've been on probation for three years. I still have one more year probation to serve. I'm a repeat offender, possession of a controlled substance, possession with the intent to deliver, and I'm really on double probation."

"And it sounds like you're proud of it. Are you hunting triple probation still you're still dealing pot?" She looked over her glasses at him while she thought that these kids weren't kids.

Several of them laughed, and she realized that once again she had said something out loud that maybe she shouldn't have and maybe, she wasn't the only one that knew he was still dealing pot.

"No, I just. Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter anyway."

"She so busted you, David." Alonzo clapped his hands and said, "That was awesome, Ms. Felicity. David always thinks he knows more than everyone else and most of the time he's high."

"Maybe, we could just forget I talked and no body better tell Coach."

"Don't hold anything back there, David. Maybe you could offer to sell her some pot?"

"Shut up, Marcus."

"Don't worry I won't."

"Well if you did it would be the first time in our lives. And you need to text your younger brother and tell him to stop tormenting my step sisters. I'm getting tired of it."

"I've told you to just send him home or text me."

Surprised, she could see that these two were friends, and just when she had thought Marcus didn't like anyone. But then they were both seventeen, probably had known each other for years. It also probably helped that both of them were carrying the weight of their families on their shoulders for neither had a mother.

"So, Marcus I guess you keep them in line." She asked.

"I do. Someone has to raise them."

And she watched as several of them nodded.

Turning, she then grasped the hand of Tyler Rounds and she ask, "How's your girlfriend Mindy?"

She noted that he didn't seem surprised by her personal question for this was small town so everyone knew. No, he just answered. "She's doing well. Thanks for asking."

"Is the baby a boy or girl?"

"A boy," he said with an awed voice that didn't speak of the violence she knew that Tyler was capable of. Yes, Tyler was an angry teenager and a repeat offender fighter. He had been in so many fights that the school had finally turned him over to the court systems. Yes, this kid was so angry and enraged, just like Oliver, and she could almost see the anger rolling off of him.

But Oliver thought that Tyler loved Mindy so her voice softened as she ask, "Is the baby due soon?"

"Yeah, he's due two weeks from now." He said the words like the event was his impending doom, and she suddenly didn't know what to say about the baby so she said, "Well, Tyler, I just want you to know that I've had your pizza and you have a future cooking, something your coach also excels in by the way."

"Coach cooks? Really?" And she could hear the awe in Tyler's voice.

"Really." she said dryly as she then said, "Yes, your coach believes that guys should know how to cook, should know how to take care of themselves, though I personally don't excel in the kitchen."

"Neither does my mom." A dark head thin young teen stepped forward and put out his hand before he said, "Hi, I'm Russell Collins."

It was cute the way he dipped his dark head as he released her hand. She smiled, gave him a really nice smile as she said, "I think I've met your mother. Doesn't she work here at the hospital?"

"Yeah, she works housekeeping and has been here over two years now."

"That's wonderful." But she was thinking that meant his mom changed jobs frequently.

"And don't you have a little brother and sister?"

He gave her a very nice grin back, before he said, "Yeah, my little sister just won student of the month, and my brother just won first place in the science fair."

"They're the smart ones in the family, huh, Russell?"

Russell turned and said darkly, "Screw you, Adrian. At least I didn't get busted at a party for public drunk, disorderly conduct, fleeing and assaulting a police officer. Talk about someone using their brains."

Alonzo stood now and she could feel the room charging with anger.

Adrian's eyes narrowed at Russell before he said, "No, unlike you I was at least drunk when I got in trouble, what's your excuse? You who was just stupid and sober when you got in drunk Justin's car after curfew, and let's not forget that joint you had in your pocket."

Tyler and Alonzo moved before either of the young men could move, each stepping between one of the young men. "Stop it you two, both of you are just as busted as the rest of us. And you heard coach's warning. Now tell the lady you're sorry."

"That's not necessary." She gave a wave of her hands, dismissing the matter but her head snapped up as she heard what could only be Oliver's sharp voice in the hall.

The words, "I understand he's your son but that doesn't change the fact he drinks," had her up and moving and out the door before she had time to think.

A very large man was waving a finger in Oliver's face with the words, "This is none of your business. So I suggest you just back off if you know what's good for you."

"You're wrong that this is none of my business, Mr. Rice, Phil's a member of my team, and he seems to be in a lot of pain, not physical pain but emotional pain and it's time you took note of it."

"Oh, frack." She said out loud as she took in the large man that was Phil Rice's dad, his very angry dad, who's voice was rising.

"Look, he's in court ordered counseling. What good has that done? Where is he today? What more do you want me to do? I can't make him stop drinking."

"Yes, you can. You can get behind me and support the fact that I'm going to have him sent to rehab if he doesn't stop drinking."

"That's not happening. Phil's not going to rehab. It would mess up this year at school. And the last thing I need is him repeating a year of school."

"Would you rather he dies? That's really mess his school year up if he dies."

"He's not going to die."

"He could have died today."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe it. And since you're his father and you're all he's got left he needs your support here."

"I have supported him. I go out on that damn boat almost every day. I pay the bills. He needs to do his part. I'm tired of coddling the boy."

"That's not the type of support he needs. Have you tried talking to him?" Oliver's voice was intense.

"Phil doesn't talk. And I'm betting he's just putting on a show here, trying to get attention."

"Believe me that seizure he had in my arms wasn't fake. And you need to face the fact that your son drinks every day, and he's trying to stop. What he needs is your support here."

"You know nothing about Phil. You've spent what a week with him, a couple hours a day? You don't know my kid. He's looking for attention here. Ever since his mom died all he does is get in trouble and cause me grief. He needs to man up."

"Man up? Look, Mr. Rice you need to understand that Phil drinks so much his body is in withdraw. And he's getting his booze from you. You're the one that needs to man up here. You need to help Phil stop drinking, and I mean by locking your booze up, I mean by being his father and making sure he can't drink your alcohol."

She noted that the teenagers were now standing behind her drinking it all in.

"Screw you, Queen. Who are you to judge me? You've no right to put your nose in my business."

"I'm his soccer coach and he's court ordered to play, so that gives me every right."

"You're a fine one to talk to me about not drinking." He gave a small laugh before he said, "And just how the hell did you get to be a soccer coach anyway? Pay your way in, rich boy?"

The man's tone was clearly disrespectful, and Felicity groaned knowing from Oliver's body language he was losing his patience with the man.

"Judge Warren Franks appointed me. And I'm far from a boy."

The man snorted then said, "Then as usual that stupid judge doesn't know what he's doing and is causing me grief. You really don't remember me do you?"

"No, should I?" Oliver's look was suddenly warily, and she wished she could warn him but it was too late.

"Yeah, you should remember me since the last I saw you, I was stuffing your drunk ass into your rich sporty car. I was helping your really stupid girlfriend, the one I took pity on, before she got herself, let's just say, taken advantage of, for walking in a bar looking for you, dressed like a hooker. So don't play high and mighty with me since I've seen you drunk too."

Oliver moved but she was faster, as she stepped between them, placing her hand on Oliver's chest, stopping him cold.

"I'd watch my mouth if I was you for I'm tougher than I look."

"Move, Felicity. I'll handle this."

"No, Coach you won't, and let me tell you Mr. Rice, he was in the fourth bar, not the first and no one took advantage of me. And just because every woman in this town shops at the super store doesn't mean I have to dress like that. I also have a degree from MIT. But since you couldn't possibility know that I'll let your insult to my intelligence pass."

Oliver was almost growling now but she went on. "And from what I remember, I gave you his almost full bottle of whiskey to help stuff his drunk ass in his rich sporty car. And since all of this happened in a bar, and I didn't see you pour it out, I would assume you DRANK it. So," she drew the word out, "I suggest both of you stop spending time throwing rocks at your glass houses and start thinking about Phil."

Snickers erupted from the teens behind her but she ignored the teenagers and held her hand out. Instantly, as he leaned in, she caught the scent of cigarettes and the gulf's salty smell that clung to him, but she smiled as she said softly, "And I was very thankful for your help that day, since it was hardly one of his more stellar moments, and I'm sure that you're just worried about your son right now, which is clouding your judgment. But what we all need to think about right now is what's best for Phil. Remember, Phil is the reason all of us are here. Phil's sick, and we need to remember that."

Phil's dad was a huge muscular man, with arms that rivaled Oliver's, and who's face spoke of the years of working outside on a shrimp boat. It was a face that was rugged and weathered with a sun kissed tan that already had frown lines around his mouth. And he still wasn't smiling when he reluctantly took her tiny hand in his own large strong and callused one and gave her hand a tiny shake before releasing her.

Oliver side stepped her and also put out his hand. "No, you're right, Felicity, we need to think about what's best for Phil. Mr Rice, I apologize for blind siding you the way I did. It was wrong. And I admit freely that night was one of my really foolish moments, but I do want to thank you for helping us that night."

Oliver extended his hand and the man looked him hard up and down before grudgingly taking his hand and giving him a nod and a dark look.

Mae chose this second to join the group holding a chart in her hand. "Eli, good to see you. Do you want to go to a conference room, or can I tell you in front of everyone, for if you look behind you it seems Phil's friends are eager to know how Phil is too."

Eli snapped his head around, and she realized he was turning red, and she was sure he hadn't really known they had an audience.

Waving his hand, he said, "Oh, go ahead, everyone will know he's in here by tomorrow morning anyway. My phone has been blowing up all ready. At least this time the gossips can start with somewhat of the truth."

"That's the beauty of small town, Eli. If they don't know the truth, then they make it up."

And the man frowned. "Go on Mae."

"Phil's pretty sick right now and seems to be in full alcohol withdraw. But we have him stable, and I'm keeping him sedated right now because that makes it easier on him. I've ordered blood tests to measure his complete blood count, and his alcohol and electrolyte levels. Also checking on his liver function to see if there's any damage, and of course, an urine screen to identify drug use."

She saw Marcus elbow David, and thought well Phil was totally flunking the drug test, and David was supplying him.

"Well, he's probably flunking the drug test. He did last month. I just glad it's just pot." Eli frowned hard as he said the words.

"Well it could be worse drugs," Felicity saw Mae eye the teens before she said, "And the good news is that since he was at soccer practice when the seizure hit, he got prompt medical attention. He could have died if he would have been alone somewhere. But the really good news is that after we get him detoxed he should make a complete recovery."

She watched as the Phil's father visibly deflated before he ask, "Can I see him?"

"You can. And it's wonderful that all of you have come to see Phil but the rest of you need to go on home. Phil's asleep right now, and I'm sorry but I'm limiting his visitors. Come back tomorrow evening, and maybe I'll let you see him few at a time. Come on, Eli."

And she and Eli Rice walked away leaving them standing there in the hall.

"Night, coach," said, several of his team.

"See you at practice tomorrow," said Alonzo with a wave.

She reached for Oliver's hand and he pulled her close for a quick hug before she ask, "What did Mae want?"

"She wanted to take my blood pressure."

"How was it?"

He sighed before he said, "She upped my dose again and said she's see me Monday in the office."

"Still no?"

"Yeah, still no."

"Oh frack."

"Exactly, come on I'll take you home and cook you dinner."

"Okay, if food is all I get then I can wait. For you I can wait."

And he gave her that goofy grin as he held her hand and they headed down the hall as she said, "Wait till I tell you about your team."

#####OQ#####

"Did you take your pills?" Felicity ask him as she settled beside him in the bed.

"Yeah." He breathed in her scent, and wished he could do more than lay here but he was so darn tired that it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. The higher dose of medication was making him feel like his limbs were made of lead. Sleep was threatening, and he was struggling to stay awake for he didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to dream, but he was losing the good fight.

"Nite, Oliver." And the last thing he remembered was the feel of her lips on his forehead.

#####OQ#####

"Step away from the door, Oliver. We're coming in."

"Okay, give me a second." He had been practicing jumping, over and over. With a foot, he kicked the board up and caught it and dropped it to the floor beside the wall. Slinging one chair against the wall, he turned the other chair then managed to sit down, straddling the chair, as his solid metal door opened with a creak then slammed hard against the wall.

Ivan entered carefully, lighting his taser, as a warning no doubt for he knew Ivan hadn't forgiven or forgotten that he had broken his nose that first day when he had come close to killing Hedeon. And he'd also given Ivan grief, for he had managed one time to escape his room.

Luke entered carefully behind Ivan welding his taser. And he knew Ivan hadn't forgotten that one day the guards that had come for him, and they hadn't been so careful, and for a very short time he'd escaped, and since Ivan was head of security here, he was sure Hedeon had shown him his displeasure at the breach.

Swallowing hard, he drew in a ragged breath, thinking that they were coming for him, thinking that he had a fight, and he could feel his chest tighten for he wasn't ready yet. No, he needed more time, just a little more time, a little more practice. But then he heard the scraping sound of boots on the concrete and couldn't control the breath of relief that rushed out of him, as two men followed dragging a bloody, clearly unconscious man between them.

"I see Hedeon has a new toy." His tone was as dark as his mood as he spat the words.

"Smart ass. Just be glad it's not you." Luke lit his taser.

Raising his chin, he schooled his face of emotion as he glared at Luke and Ivan with pure hate, as he push down the almost painful instant relief that Luke and Ivan weren't here to taser him, chain him and drag him away, and he wasn't going under Hedeon's knife today.

No, the other man was the new toy now and the thought that he was glad it wasn't him put an ache in his heart that hurt so badly that he coldly shut his emotions off, called for the ice in his gut, as he forced himself to suppress the relief and the rage that was rising in him.

The two men drug the lifeless bare chested bleeding man across the room and dumped him like so much litter on the cot that he didn't have ripped apart.

"He's all yours, Oliver. Hedeon said if he dies it's on you." Ivan had a small smile on his face and it sickened him.

They were turning to leave, to leave the man with him.

"Wait. What do you expect me to do with him?"

"Stitch him up, keep him alive." Ivan replied in a gruff voice.

"I'm not Mike." He stood and then shook his head hard. No, he wasn't going to do this.

"Want a bet? Maybe, I even start calling you Mike. I've seen your chest, you're starting to look like him."

He swallowed hard, and then glaring he said menacingly, "I wouldn't call me that if I were you."

Ivan frowned, then pointed a finger as he said, "I'll call you whatever I want. And you better watch your tone."

"Then don't call me Mike. I'm not going to be Mike."

"You're already Mike, only you're not going to live as long as he did. Mike had more sense than you do. Mike had respect."

"Mike didn't respect you. He just put up a front because he couldn't fight but I can. Why don't you put that taser down and you and me, we'll go a round." He waved him towards him, motioning him toward him, wishing Ivan would give him just half a chance to kill him.

Ivan shook his head with the words, "I don't think so. Hedeon wouldn't approve of me damaging you."

He barked a laugh, before he replied, "And we wouldn't want to do anything that Hedeon wouldn't approve of. Would we?"

"You and that mouth. I swear. No, as much as I'd like to kick your ass, you need to save your fighting for the ring. And for now, you better figure out how to keep this one alive. And, remember, Hedeon likes small stitches."

He held his thumb and finger almost together as if demonstrating the size of the stitch.

"If he wants tiny stitches then he can put them in."

"It doesn't work like and you know it. And, Oliver, don't stitch his back."

"Right, I wouldn't want to mess up his H mark with stitches. You know you're just as much a monster as Hedeon. Admit it, Ivan. You get off on the blood and the pain too."

A tic developed in the man's face before he said darkly, "Oliver, just what are you doing in here? Why's the bed torn up?"

"I'm just training."

"Training? Why don't I believe you?" He narrowed his eyes at him and he frowned.

"I don't care if you believe me, it's all the answer you're getting."

I haven't forgotten that you broke my nose or that you managed to escape. Not that it did you any good, though I'm beginning to think you like the cage. So, Oliver, you mark my words, if you just keep pushing, I'll taser you just for the fun of it."

Ivan lit the taser, and Oliver took a step back, putting more space between them. He might be defiant but he wasn't stupid.

No, he knew to respect the taser's bite. But that didn't stop his words.

"And, Ivan, you mark my words. I'm going to kill you someday. So go head. What can you do to me? Taser me? Cut me? Go ahead. Wouldn't be my first time. Then you can stitch him up." He pointed to the fallen bleeding man.

"Just get to work, Oliver."

His tone was dark and hateful as he ask, "And why do you help him? What is he your brother?" He gave Ivan a hard look.

"He's the man who pays me well, very well. Now you better get to work. He's looking kind of gray to me."

"And you've seen enough of them die to know he's bleeding out, huh? But then you'll just find him another toy, right Ivan?"

"That's right, Oliver, there's a lot of men that can just disappear and no one will even miss them. Look at you for example."

Ivan's words hurt for no one was coming for him and he knew it. The only one that might be looking for him was Anatoly Knyazev but that was only if his message had made its way to the man.

"When I kill him I'm going to put you in hell with him."

Ivan laughed then replied, "Promises, promises. You just better keep him breathing."

"I'm not a doctor you know?"

"Mike wasn't either but he got better at it. So let me spell it out for you. Here's how it works around here, since Mike's dead that leaves you so like it or not, now you get to be Mike."

"I won't do it."

"Then don't but regardless, I'm done talking to you. Your choice here, you let him die and it'll be you back under the knife. Now if I was you I'd put that bed back together and stitch him up." Ivan then turned and, with Luke watching, holding his taser up, Ivan walked away.

And intense hatred assaulted him, as he watched Luke walk backward, not trusting him enough to turn his back on him as he said, "Make the right choice, Oliver. My stitching sucks and someone will have to stitch you back up." Then Luke slammed the door shut and he heard the lock slide home.

The dark haired man moaned, and he exhaled sharply, then walked over and inspected the man's bloody chest. Hedeon had done a number on him. He had cut him straight down the middle of his chest, exposing his rib cage and the man was clearly on his way to bleeding out. His skin was clammy, and he was cold and gray, both sure signs of blood loss.

"Can you hear me?" Giving the man a small shake, he ask, "Do you know your blood type?"

No answer. "Great." He said out loud as he went to find the things he needed.

He realized that he going to have to give the man a transfusion, going to have to give him his blood. Mike had taught him how to give a transfusion, how to hook up the tubing, how to find a vein, just has he had taught him how to harvest his own blood for a bleeding day, as he had joked.

It was a shame that he didn't know the man's type. He would have preferred to give his own type, to make one of the guards give up their blood and leave his stocked blood for him, but since he was O negative he could give anyone blood without knowing his type. Yes, this man was in luck that he had some blood stocked up but first he needed to stitch him up, since there was no sense in wasting his good blood.

Pushing the man over, he took in the large weeping H on his bloody left shoulder. Hedeon mark that told the world you were his property, his mark that kept anyone from helping you, that kept you from running. He knew for he had tried, had even made it out of the compound but then the men that had picked him up had restrained him, checked his shoulder and turned him back in for the reward. His escape had last all of about an hour, and all it had earned him was another time under the knife, more time in the cage, and the loss of his shoes. And Hedeon had threatened to cut the bottoms of his feet the next time if he tried to run again. And his small escape had also earned him total lock down time and chains every time they moved him and cold feet since he really missed his shoes.

Rising, on socked feet, he went to the cabinet that held the medical supplies and gathered the things he needed. Then he returned to the man.

The thin young man was groaning and thrashing around some, as he washed the large H with alcohol then bandaged his left shoulder.

Washing his hands in alcohol, he threaded a sterilized needle with a suture, then he took a deep breath and poured alcohol on the long cut and the man's eyes snapped open as he screamed. Barely, only because he had fast reflexes did he catch the man's hand that went straight for his throat.

"Easy," he said one hand on the man's wrist and the other holding the needle, "I'm trying to help you here."

"It doesn't feel like it. Where am I?"

"Hell. Now this is going to really hurt, but I have to close your chest up. You're bleeding out here. Do you know your blood type?"

"No. Where did the guy with the knife go?"

"Somewhere nice I'm sure but I'm all you have now. Now if you want to live you are going to have to let me stitch you up."

"Why are you helping me?"

He had to shut his eyes, for he knew he sounded like Mike when he said, "I don't have a choice. Just like you I'm trapped here. Look, I'm going to let your hand go, so I can show you something."

Carefully, he released the man's hand and with fingers that had a small tremor he lifted his shirt to show the man the long angry still healing scar on his abdomen.

"See my chest."

"He did that to you?"

"Yes, and on my shoulder. Just like you, only my H is on the right side. I have a tattoo on the left. Now if you want to live, you're going to let me stitch you up?"

"I don't suppose dying's an option?"

"If you die then he cuts me. Brace yourself." He hated the words coming out of his mouth, and he loathed having to sew the man's flesh. Oh, yes, he had stitched himself up on the boat but this was so different for never had he stitched another person's skin.

The thought that he was becoming Mike swallowed him whole, and he had to fight the hopelessness that was choking him. Intense darkness filled his mind as he realized his future was right here locked in a room with blood and gore. Heart pounding, he forced himself to weld the needle, to push the needle through the man's skin at the midpoint of the wound. Forcing himself, he drew the edges of the wound closely together and made his first stitch, as the man screamed.

Knotting the thread with a square knot, he then cut the thread. Mike had talked to him about stitches as he had held on and took the pain, as Mike had stitched his chest again and again. Carefully, he stitched like Mike had taught him. He made one stitch and tied the thread off before making the next stitch and tying the stitch off again. It took longer to stitch the wound like this but it was less painful on the man when Hedeon took the stitches out. And he knew from experience, for Ivan had stitch his chest one time and connected all the stitches, and he had experienced true agony the day that Hedeon had taken his stitches out.

His brain was working overtime returning to the time his stitches had been connected to each other. Hedeon's knife pulling on the entire wound not just one stitch. His breath was coming in short gasps for he knew Hedeon was going to take these stitches out too, that what he was doing here was pointless. But he continued to put in one stitch at a time knowing that Hedeon was going to take them out one by one and would get a thrill from the man's pain, from his submission so at least he could do this for the man. Yes, it wasn't much but he could do for this man, for this man who had no future.

He had put only five stitches in and the man was already sobbing and begging. "Please, don't you have pain killers?"

"Sorry, I know it hurts but I don't have any painkillers."

"Please, just stop, I can't stand it. You have to give me something for the pain." The man stilled his hand.

"Look, there isn't anything for the pain. Look around. Does this look like a hospital?"

"No, it looks like a dungeon."

"Good call. And I know it's really it's hard to believe but dungeons still exist. So, sorry no drugs here. You've just got to tough it out for there's only pain on the menu here."

"Could you just let me die?"

"This is ground we've already covered. You die he cuts me. It's a vicious circle here. The only thing I could do is knock you out but then your face will hurt too."

"Then just do it. God, just hit me. I can't stand this."

"You'd be surprised what you can stand. And if you're going to survive here you'd better toughen up. I'm sorry about this." He punched the man in his cheek, which caused the man's head to snap to the side and he was gone, blacked out.

Then he carefully stitched the unconscious man's chest, he stitched until his hands ached, but with each dark stitch he remembered how the sharp needle stung. Oh, yes, he remembered the wicked needle's sharp bite, the dragon breathing fire into his chest. As he stitched he remembered Mike, who had no more hope. He remembered Hedeon taking Mike's stitches out of his chest, painful by painful stitch. His breathing was becoming labored as he remembered Hedeon making him ask nicely to take that next stitch out, chained spread eagle to keep him from attacking, to keep him from ending his life, so Mike could put the stitches back in and the cycle would begin yet again.

But who would stitch him up the next time he went under the knife? Luke? Or heaven help him, Ivan?

Eyeing, the dark head young man, he gauged his age about twenty and realized he hadn't ask him his name. Stopping, in mid stitch he realized that like him the man's name no longer mattered, and in truth, he didn't want to know the man's name. And it was a numbing realization for he was becoming Mike.

His hand suddenly developed a small tremor, a small tic, as he forced himself to put the next stitch in the young man's chest, knowing that Hedeon was going to use his sharp blade to slowly rip the stitch from the man's chest. But that wasn't the hard part, not the hard part was that he realized that what he was doing was probably useless, a lesson in futility, that this man didn't have a chance if he couldn't stand the needle's pain he would never have a chance of surviving Hedeon's knife.

Standing, he looked down at his bloody hands, the copper metallic smell of blood assaulted his senses and the hopelessness of his situation was smothering him. With jerky movements, he washed his hands and then set up the transfusion, just as Mike had taught him knowing all the while he was helping a dead man.

With a jerk, breathing rapidly, gasping hard, he awoke into the dark, not just in the room but in his mind. Panting, sweating, he reached for the blood on his chest, reached for the painful stitches. He reached for now but he was having a hard time figuring out now, finding the present. Panic was winning, as he tried to slow his heart, his gasping breath.

Now, he could smell her scent and his heart began to slow. The bedroom and the sound of her breathing filled his mind. He wanted to pull her into his arms but Felicity was still sleeping, dead to the world and the last thing he wanted to do was wake her.

And he was so glad, so very glad she was not going to catch him, as he climbed slowly out of the their bed, climbed deliberately out of her bed before he woke her up. He stood so still, as her breathing leveled out, and he made sure she was still sleeping.

Please, Felicity, he thought, just keep sleeping.

Carefully, on silent bare feet, he moved soundlessly across the room. His heart remained pounding like a drum in his chest, and he could hear his heart beat in his ears. Making the door, he soundlessly stepped out of the room, grabbing her tablet, as he went, so he could leave her a message if she got up.

For a moment, he sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He was still having problems staying here. But no way, could he stay in the bed with Hedeon any more tonight. No way, could he stay in the bed with Hedeon's sharp knife and thinking about the first man he had ever stitched up.

No, he didn't want to think about how Ivan and Luke had come back the next day for the man. The man he had never asked his name and that fact had haunted him but he really didn't want to think about the fact the man had never returned to his cell, but he had heard as the guards had drug the man's body out. His boots making that sound on the the concrete.

Yes, he knew the sound of a dead body, the sound of a dead man's boots scraping the concrete, giving no resistance, as the guards drug the dead out to add to the pile, to throw in a nameless grave. And he couldn't help but think that since he no longer had boots, he wouldn't even make a sound when they drug him out.

Oh, yes, he had wondered when Hedeon would really kill him, and he knew that Hedeon had bled the man he had stitched up out, and that he had changed nothing, that the only thing he had changed was that it wasn't his turn. And Mike's words had haunted him yet, again.

"He's killed everyone I've ever helped, everyone but me."

And he knew Mike's words were true for there were several others after the first one, and harboring guilt, he had never ask their names for Mike was right, all of them, everyone he helped Hedeon bled out, and the guards had drug their lifeless bodies away. He was the only one that got out alive and the last thing he could do was lie in his bed and think about that time.

So, carefully he got up from the kitchen chair and with carefully controlled movements, he put on his shoes and tied his laces.

It was 3:36 A.M., as he crept out the door, grabbing the soccer ball up as he went.

He knew he would kick the ball for a while, a very long while, but no matter how hard he kicked the ball, Hedeon still went with him, still hurting him for he seemed on replay right now. And, he had to bite his lip hard, to control the pain replaying in his head and he pushed himself hard trying to forget.

Finally the sun was coming up, and he headed back into the house. Past sweaty, he was just drenched in sweat, as he silently opened the door and she stood in his t-shirt, her hair wild, and he felt a sharp stab of desire, even as he cringed for he knew before she said sharply, with a shake of her head, "You're so busted."

"At least I left you a note." And he pulled the door shut behind him and dropped the ball into a basket by the door.

"Oh, like that just makes this okay?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned before she said, "We're going to talk and I mean right now. You're going to make a choice right here and now. I mean it, Oliver, right fracking here and now."

#####OQ#####

Okay, readers you know the drill. Hope to hear from some of you. And as always thanks for the read. And to all HAPPY HOLIDAYS! And I do promise I will be posting through Helliatus.


	30. Chapter 30

Slowly, he kicked his shoes off, answering her with silence. Just as slowly, he stripped off his socks. Not that he thought that he had any prayer of escaping her fury and his guilt that was really swallowing him whole, for he knew he was doing exactly what Mae had told him not to. Carefully, he hung his soaked socks from the basket that held his soccer ball, then straightened his shoes, making them match exactly, against the wall.

"Do you want to be with me? Answer me, Oliver." Her voice was intense. "Don't you dare ignore me."

"Of course, I want to be with you!" Straightening, his heart pounding, he suddenly could almost taste fear.

What if she ended this? What if this, they were over? What if he'd ruined it all?

"Well you need to make a choice here?"

"I choose you. I've told you that." He tried his smile.

She wasn't buying it.

"Don't you dare smile at me because you're not. You're choosing to die. You're choosing to leave me alone. What time did you get up? As sweaty as you are, I would say it was hours ago." She totally stepped into his space and jabbed a pointed finger into his chest with the words, "Are you trying to kill yourself? Didn't Mae ask you to back off?"

"I . . ."

"Didn't I ask you to back off?"

"I . . ."

Her voice was rising as she screamed at him. "I nothing. I know Mae told you that you're not to run until you're a sweat ball. Do you want to die? How can you do this to me?" Her words were sharp, angry, like a wasp stinging, again and again.

"Straight to the point, as always, Felicity. Okay, I hear you."

His heart was pounding, as he walked past her and opened the fridge and removed his orange juice and a bottle of water, as he pushed down the guilt, knowing she was right. He was doing exactly what Mae had told him not to do, and he knew his blood pressure wasn't exactly under control.

"Don't you even think about lying to me this morning. You only hear what you want to hear."

Chugging the entire bottle of water, he carefully replaced the cap and then giving the bottle a salvage twist, he felt no release from the action as he slammed the mangled bottle into the recycle bin, with the words, "That's not totally true."

"And what would you know about the truth?"

Opening the kitchen cabinet, he carefully retrieved a glass and poured himself some juice.

Okay, he could admit to himself that he was stalling, that he was hoping that she wasn't leaving him, that if he just let her get it off her chest then it would be okay, even if he knew that she was about to rip him a new one.

"Probably not much. As usual, you're right, Felicity."

"And you're avoiding the question, side stepping, as always. What time did you leave my bed, Oliver?" Her hands were on her hips now.

"Before you?" And he gave her a small smile, trying to fake her out, trying to make light of this situation.

But, of course, it wasn't working for this was Felicity after all, and she was smarter than that.

"I'd totally put that smile of yours away, Oliver, for what you're doing to us is not funny at all."

She gave him a dark look, and his heart plummeted, as she said, "OKAY, one more time. Last chance. AND, how many hours did you sleep tonight? Three hours or four? You're reverting back to not sleeping again, you're not sleeping enough. You're endangering your life again. Well answer me."

"I was waiting for the end of your rant, and I'm sleeping."

"And now you straight out lie to me." She threw her hands up and then pointed and started talking with her hands. "Was one trip to the ER not enough for you? It's been days now that you have only slept a few hours each night. And I've looked it up. Not sleeping can spike your blood pressure. Oliver, I've known every night that you are getting up but enough is enough. No, more. It's time you made a choice between living with me or continuing doing what you're doing. But I mean it, I'm not going to watch you continue to exercise your way to dying and leaving me alone."

"You knew?" And, yes, his anxiety was stressing him, really stressing him. The idea that she could leave him was really stressing him, along with the fact that he really didn't know how to change, how to make the dreams stop, or how to stay in the bed.

"Of course, I knew." She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Look, I wake up when I reach for you and you're not there. I miss you, Oliver. I've excused you're not being there because I know this dream's a really bad one. But this not sleeping is really hard on your body and enough is enough."

"I'm doing better." He said the words with heat behind them, like if he could say them strong enough it would make them true.

"Liar. You're such a liar. And you know what's bad? You're not just lying to me, you're standing there lying to yourself. I'm sleeping. I'm doing better. No, Oliver, you're not! Now it's time you talked about this dream, tried to put that time in your life to rest. You're not just doing this to you, Oliver, you're doing this to me too. I'm not getting enough sleep either. Please Oliver, go and see Riley Clark. I want you to go and see Riley to get help."

"Don't you think I've tried to put this dream to rest. Don't you think if I could make it stop, I would." His anger was rising, flooding through him, as he ignored the comment about Riley Clark. How that man just came cropping up just infuriated him.

"Then talk to me, Oliver. Tell me."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Riley and everything I've read says you have to face the memories, and stop suppressing. I know you're dreaming about whoever gave you that H scar on your back and the scar on your chest because you're not sleeping AGAIN. Are you still trying to use the replacement imagery?"

"Of course, I've tried. It's just not working. Do you think I like this?" Now his anger was raging, tightening his stomach, and he clinched his teeth.

"No, I don't think you like this, but do you think I like this? You sleeping a few hours and then getting up and PUSHING yourself, trying to die on me, or worse yet stroking and living with a side of your body just gone."

His voice was climbing, along with his rage. "I'm not trying to die on you, and, of course, I don't think you like this, but this is the way I am, Felicity. You said you could live with the way I am, just stop trying to change me, stop pushing me. I'm sick of people pushing me." Replacing the juice in the fridge, he slammed the fridge's door, shaking the entire appliance.

"I'm pushing you? Hardly! I'll show you pushing." She stepped into his personal space. Poking him in the chest with her pink painted nail, she ground out the words, "You accuse me of pushing you when I just stand by and let you get away with not sleeping, let you get away with running until you're a sweat ball. Let you get away with trying to kill yourself."

He stopped her sharp finger with his quick hand, his voice hard, violent, "You act like I have a choice here."

Jerking her hand away from him, her words were harsh. "You do have a choice just like I have a choice and I'm making it. Oliver, I'm done ignoring your problems. It's time you man up and go and see Riley. It's time you let someone help you. If you won't talk to Riley, then talk to me. Tell me."

"I can't."

"Not can't, WON"T. You really work at making me mad, Oliver, did you know that? And this dream's tormenting you and you won't let me or anyone help you. No, you won't even try."

Felicity was talking with her hands, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her, to shut her up. Yes, he just wanted to just end this conversation with sex. Damn what Mae wanted, it should be about what he wanted. And what he really wanted was to just take her right here, what he really wanted was to be the man, to be the one who could hush her smart mouth with his and make this entire situation go away.

But, he had a feeling that she might she not welcome him. No, for the first time, she might just push him away, and she might really mean it. So, he did nothing, as that terrible thought froze him in his tracks and fed his anger. Yes, those thoughts made him say in earnest, his hands clenching, as he tried to drive his burning anger down. "Don't you understand, I've TRIED and I can't stay in the bed, Felicity. I JUST CAN'T."

"Yes, you can. You just need to try."

He forced himself to school his expression, to pull his anger, his black rage, back before he said something he would regret. Softening his voice, he said, "I've tried. Please, Felicity, don't ask me to stay in the bed. I have to get up. It's is too long for me to lay there and. . . and," he couldn't make the words come out.

"And what? Don't you dare shut down on me. The truth, Oliver. Stop lying to me by avoidance. What is about PTSD that makes you do that? RILEY does that to Anna too. The TRUTH, Oliver! Tell me!" Her voice was intense. She was really pushing him here and pure fury threatened to engulf him.

"You want the truth?"

"Yes, the truth from you would be a breath of fresh air."

In a rage, he jerked his wet shirt off, throwing it savagely into the sink, as he pointed to the wicked scar on his chest and said in dark voice, "I'll give you the truth. You see this scar?"

Pressing her lips together for an instant, she then stuck out her chin, clearly daring him. "Tell me, Oliver, tell me how you got that scar, tell me why you can't stop this dream."

"I can't stop the dream because I don't know which time I'm going to dream about. I don't know which time's coming to haunt me, because he cut me over and over again. You wanted the truth, Felicity. Well the truth is that's what he did. He CUT ME, and he cut me a lot. He bought me, and he owed me, and I couldn't stop him for a long time. I had NO control."

His voice was dark and bitter. "And this dream is not repeating like the other dream was. I'm just dreaming about him, about his sharp knife, about my time there. And, I don't know what time is coming next. I can't rewrite the dream when it keeps changing."

Flipping around, he bared his back to her, as he clutched the counter top and looked out the window, but he wasn't seeing the gulf. NO, not the waves and he reached to touch the cold tile on the countertop, as he desperately clung to staying here, as he asked. "Do you see the huge H on my back? Do you know why it looks like an H? DO YOU?" He couldn't keep the desperate tone, the rage, out of his voice.

"No, tell me." Her voice was small and quiet and demanding.

"Because his name was Hedeon. It's Russian for destroyer and that's what he did. He destroyed people. He bought me, and he marked me as his property. He insured it that if I ran that no one would help me, that I couldn't escape. . . And I tried to run and because of that H." He stopped as his heart sped up and it became almost hard to breath as the memory started to smother him.

She said nothing, and he breathed in deeply, trying to think about his breathing, attempting to control himself before he went on. "It didn't work. The men that caught me turned me in. Collected the reward for me."

"Oh, Oliver. I'm really."

"DON'T say dare say you're sorry for me. I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to understand why I can't stay in the bed, to understand that I belonged to him. You need to understand that I was his property to do whatever he wanted with, and he proved that to me, repeatedly. I want you to understand that repeatedly, he proved that I BELONGED TO HIM. AND," his voice was raising, along with his anger, the liquid burning fire inside him spilling out beyond his control. He released the counter, his hands fisting, the desire to rip the room apart, to punch something hard almost overwhelming him.

Yes, the animal inside him had slipped his leash, and he couldn't stop the harsh words.

"Do you see how thick the lines on my back are? How he made the H wide. Felicity, I want you to think about how many times he took his knife and cut me to make that scar that thick, that raised."

She gave a small distressed noise but there was no stopping his words now, for they were flowing out of him like a black river.

"So, I don't know which time I'm going to dream about. And I hate dreaming about him. I detested that I couldn't stop him then, and I can't stop him now. It's like I'm reliving it. I need you to just understand that that I still can't fight him."

"Why couldn't you fight him. You're really strong, Oliver. Why couldn't you stop him? Take him out?"

Swallowing hard, he forced the words out, "If I fought back then he would put me in the . . ." He stopped right there and pressed his lips together, but he could see it in his mind, and just thinking about it made his body cramp.

She said it for him and he cringed.

"The small cage?"

Turning his head away, he gave a slight nod, before he said, "And the worst part was I couldn't control the situation. Yes, I was much stronger than him. Yes, I could have snapped him into pieces, but I couldn't stop him from coming at me again and again, not if I wanted to stay out of that cage."

The words wouldn't stop now. "So, I had to let him cut me. I had no choice. And, Felicity, I had to stay out of that cage. And I had to fight for him and I had to do what I had to do." His hands were aching fists now, aching to punch, and aching to feel the pain. His mind was starting to replay the fights, the adrenaline rush, and the aching pain in his hands.

The words wouldn't stop as the darkness engulfed him, as he said, "And I just can't stay in our bed for hours on end, trying not to fall asleep while I'm waiting to dream about that sadist, butcher with a knife, carving me up again and again. As I'm waiting for him to widened his H, his mark, as I'm waiting for him to take the stitches out of my chest over and over. Don't ask me to do that, Felicity, because I can't. I JUST CAN'T DO IT. I JUST CAN'T."

"He cut you and took your stitches out repeatedly? How could anyone do that?" she asked in a weak voice.

Spinning on his heel, he looked in time to see her face fall, to see the horror he'd caused. Her hand was cupped over to her mouth, and as he watched the light in her blue eyes went out, and pure horror engulfed her face before she could mask her reaction to the pure evil that he had just unleashed on her with no real warning. Instantly, he regretted letting the words out, the horror out, and he instantly wanted to drag all of his dark words back into the blackness that was his soul.

But like Pandora's box, once the evil was out of the box, it wasn't going back in.

Shutting his eyes for an instant, he fought the intense anger that raged through him, fought the need to beat his fists against the table, as his guilt attacked him, for he knew he was past bad, past wicked, and he should have kept all of that to himself. He always kept the darkness to himself, what was he thinking? How could he do that to her?

Opening his eyes, he saw the true distress in her face, in her body language and it cut him to the core. He softened his voice, "I'm very sorry, that was cruel. I was heartless to tell you almost nothing and then to tell you something like that bluntly."

"You never meant to tell me at all." She said softly.

The self-hatred was silently smothering him. And he flinched as she reached out her hand and touched his chest. "You're right, Oliver, that was cruel, but how do you tell me something like that? Send me a text? Write me an e-mail?"

He wanted to pull away from her, as he wished his shorts had pockets, for he needed a place to put his hands, needed a place to steady his hands for they had a tremor. Catching her eye, he said sincerely, "Hey, look, I'm sorry, I said anything. I was lashing out. It was wrong of me."

"No. It was right of you to tell me. I asked you tell me. But it's just that I used to think it was an animal that gave you the scars on your back, something on the island, I never imagined," she said in a small voice.

"Oh, he was an animal all right." He scrubbed his hands over his face because he knew that he had been an animal too, then and now for sharing this with her, sharing that evil man with her. Sadly, his heart heavy, he said, "Look, I'm tired, that's why I told you. It's wrong of me to share that darkness with you, to burden you with knowing. You never needed to know any of that. I'm truly sorry. Forget what I said."

Putting his head in his hands for an instant, he tried to put his mask back on, tried to put on his mask, the mask he wore, that hid things like this from other people, but he was struggling here.

"How, Oliver?" Her hand was smoothing his chest, soothing him. "How do I forget that another human being was really sick and that he cut you repeatedly?" Her hand hovered over the large scar on his abdomen but she didn't touch him there. "Now I know why this scar on your chest looks like it was stitched repeatedly, because it HAS. But knowing helps me understand you better."

She reached out for him, softly touching the scar, and he flinched, physically pulling away from her.

And she just as quickly pulled back too, as though she was suddenly afraid to touch him, and it was his fault because he had pulled back first.

Abruptly, he felt the chill, the icy cold, engulf him. Immediately, he felt like he had just driven a wedge between them that had never existed before, and it was his fault because he'd shared his darkness, because he had shared the blackness in his soul with her. Yes, he was the animal now, for he knew a part of him had wanted to shock her, had wanted to prove to her that she really didn't want to know what had happened to him.

"Look, I need a shower." He stepped back away from her, pulling away from her not just physically, but emotionally as well, as he forced himself to shut his emotions down, to stop his emotions before he was lost in the darkness again. It was moments like this that made him question why he thought he could have a relationship with her. All he was doing was hurting her. What was he thinking?

"Don't you dare move away. Stop with shut down mode, Oliver. And you're right you were lashing out. And, you're trying to teach me a lesson, trying to teach me to stop asking questions about your dreams, about your past. Well it's not going to work."

The vicious part of him had wanted exactly that. His heart was suddenly heavy and his chest felt like ice, as the cold rage at himself for telling her, for exposing her to the darkness within him was growing.

"Wait. I see you pulling away from me. No, you don't, you don't get to tell me that and then shut down." Closing the gap between them, she stepped into his space, as she refused to let him get away from her, but she didn't touch him this time, as she said, "You're avoiding, Oliver, withdrawing. I know you. And I get that's how you cope."

She reached and he sidestepped with the words, "Don't touch me, I'm sweaty." And guilty he thought, guilty of being almost cruel to her.

"Oh yes, you're really sweaty, always exceedingly sweaty and you're right, you do need a shower." But she just moved into his space as she grinned up at him and then reached and wrapped her arms around his neck, before she said, "But I don't care. And I'm not going to let you beat yourself up about telling me, Oliver. I'm not sorry you told me. I'm glad you shared with me."

However, he couldn't meet her eyes. "Well you should be sorry. It was wrong of me."

"No, Oliver, you should tell me. It was right. We're a team and you need to let me help you make peace with that time in your life. Telling me is not suppressing the memory, it's bringing that horrible time into the light."

"It doesn't belong in the light. I shouldn't have told you. It was wrong, evil of me."

"No, it was right and you're not evil. I can see the good in you, Oliver. It's in there. The good is in there. It's still inside of you. I can see it and remember I love the now you. And that's why these memories haunt you because you refuse to think about them. The more you try not to think about it the more your brain wants to bring it to the surface. So, let me or Riley Clark help stop the dreams."

"Stop shoving Riley Clark down my throat."

"No, I won't. We need help, Oliver. You need to help me stop your nightmares. You deserve to sleep peacefully. I love you, Oliver. I just want to help you. And, I know each of your scars have a story, that someone hurt you or you wouldn't have the scars. I've accepted that you have scars. And, I'm tough, Oliver, you know that. Probably not tough enough to have survived what you have but still I'm tough. Look at the heels I can walk in."

Heaven help him, she had just made him almost smile.

"So, you can tell me anything. I may not like it. I may want to kill them or hope you killed them, but I can take whatever has happened to you. What I can't take is you not sleeping. What I can't stand it you pushing yourself too hard. I need you."

He could smell her, that scent that was her, and she was staring into his eyes, and the light was back in them, along with something else. Something that made his heart beat hard.

"I don't want your pity, Felicity. I can see it in your eyes."

"You don't see pity. What you see is horror, for what happened to you, for what that monster, that animal did to you. What you see in my eyes is compassion and empathy, there's no pity. And you need to understand that what happened to you wasn't your fault, Oliver. You didn't ask them to sell you, to hurt you. How could they do that to you? I hope you cost them a chunk, that they paid top dollar for you."

"That's funny, Felicity."

"No, it's not. But you didn't deserve what happened to you. It was their wrong not yours. Shame on them. They shouldn't have done that to you or to anyone for that fact. Yet, it's not your fault, not something that you could control. It's not like you asked him to hurt you."

However, he knew she was wrong. He'd asked Hedeon repeatedly to cut him to avoid the small cage. But that small fact, that darkness, he would keep to himself. It was bad enough he'd told her what he had. And he had tortured, many times, more than once, so what goes over the devil's back comes under his belly, two fold, and that was the way his life had been.

From the time, he'd stepped on that boat fully intending to cheat on Laurel with Sara, he'd sealed his fate. And he knew he'd destroyed all their lives, all of them, even Laurel and her family had paid dearly because of him. All of that darkness was his fault. He'd chosen Sara over Shadow, and Shadow had died. He'd chosen to kill Slade and that choice had caused his mother's dead, and then he'd lost his family's fortune.

All those bad decisions. You reap what you sow.

Yet, then she moved completely into his space. Carefully, almost cautiously, she placed her mouth, her lips on his chest, her lips just brushing, then hovering just above his heart. A very soft kiss first, then she sucked his skin slowly, just tasted his skin, before she said, "Stop brooding, Oliver. I know now, and I still love you, maybe more than before. And, I'm still here."

"But will you really stay? How much time will I get?" He couldn't finish the rest out loud but in his head he thought, how long before she figured out that he was an animal too? How long before she left him alone? His hand twitched again, and he made a fist to stop the tremor.

"Oliver, pay attention. I'm not leaving you because a monster named Hedeon hurt you, cut you, bought you and owned you. I know you're standing here thinking that I'm going to figure out how evil you are and leave you. But I won't. I've known you for over three years. Don't you think if I was going to walk away, I'd have done it by now."

"But now is different. We're together now."

She gave him a very solid look. "You're right. Now is very different. But you need to process it, Oliver. I really love you, just you. People have done terrible things to you but that doesn't change the man I love. I love the now you, remember that, the now you. So, stop blaming yourself. Stop the blame game. No way did you deserve what happened to you, what that monster did to you."

"I've done bad things too, really bad things." Things he would never tell her about, ever.

"That was a long time ago. Remember it happened a long time before we met. I'm truly glad you survived, Oliver, and remember, I've seen your scars. They're a part of you, and they don't brother me." Her words were soft, then her mouth moved and savored his skin again. Her lips lay soft against his skin before she laid her head against his chest and just held him close, just pulled him to her.

And suddenly, he felt something just melted inside of him, for he believed her, as hope was growing in his chest, hope that she would truly stay, hope that they could really make this work. Her small hands were stroking his back, and he loved that she was still willing to just hold him, loved that she was still willing to even want to touch him after she knew those terrible things about him.

For just a few instants, she just held him close and finally, he said, "I've seen and done such evil, Felicity. How can you know and still love me?"

He asked the words very quietly, with a deep sigh, as his arms slowly reached to wrap around her, to pull her head closer to him, to feel her body against his chest, even against the ragged scar on his chest, as his fingers wrapped in her silky blonde hair.

His heart contacted, and he exhaled sharply, as she said, "Because really you're worth it, Oliver. No matter what has happened to you, you're not evil. Never think you are. I know better. I've seen all the people you've helped, all the good you've done, the things you've survived. And we'll survive these dreams too, because I believe in you and us. I believe we'll figure these dreams out and put them to rest. We just maybe need some help. You need to just let people help you. Together, we'll figure this out. Together, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, he leaned into the hug, but he didn't agree.

"Okay, Oliver? This requires an answer. And yes, I'm pushing you here. Something has to change, Oliver. I mean it. And what changes is up to you. Do you want to stay with me?"

And even as fear was coursing through him again, fear that she would end this, end them, then her mouth was moving on his chest, tasting him, making him forget the bad, making him ache, as she tipped her head and reached and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Oh, he was really taller than her, but if he tipped her head back just so, it worked, truly worked as his lips meet hers.

And how she was igniting his blood, and even if everything was very messed up in his head right now, her hot mouth felt just right against his. Slowly, he just tasted her, and she tasted sweet, really good.

Yes, very good and he used his mouth to try to make her forget her question, trying to sweep her away with his kiss, even though he knew this was Felicity, a woman, who was too smart for that.

And she didn't disappoint him, when she broke the kiss, and she said, "Hmmm, you can really use that mouth of yours, but you need to choose, Oliver. Together or alone? What's it going to be?"

"Together, Felicity. There's no choice to make, you know I'll always choose you." Even if his heart was racing at the very thought of what he was agreeing to, since, he knew Riley Clark was involved if she had anything to say about It. And he still didn't think he could go and see the man, but he would deal with that later, for now he was getting a reprieve.

"Then, let's take a shower, Oliver. I'm past needy for you right now, and you're really sweaty."

"But Mae said."

"I know exactly what Mae said, but if you haven't had a heart attack or a stroke after kicking the ball half the night, sex isn't going to kill you. And since when have you or I ever worried about breaking the rules?"

And, then, she giggled, as she launched herself at him, and he couldn't help but grin, as he swept her up in his arms, and the icy cold around his heart warmed, as she felt wonderful, incredibly right in his arm.

Carrying her, he walked to their bathroom, and he stripped his t-shirt from her body, while her hands were ridding him of his shorts and boxers. His mouth moved across her skin. Finding that spot at the nape of her neck he knew was sensitive, he tasted her skin, and her head dropped back, as he inhaled her scent. Reaching down, he cupped her awesome ass, while her hands were digging into his shoulders and her legs were wrapping around his waist, pressing herself against him, grinding herself against him.

Forcing himself, he pulled his lips from her skin and turned the shower on, but she had turned his head then caught his mouth, nibbling on his lips just before her mouth plundered his, waging war with her awesome tongue.

He was drowning in her, pulled under in a sexual haze. Oh, how he loved her skin, how he adored her bare skin, that scent that belonged to her, only to her.

Turning the water on, he placed her on her feet in the shower and then plastered her against the shower wall. Attacking her with his mouth, his hands, he was barely able to contain himself, and totally unable to slow down for an instant, as he fought how badly he wanted her.

"I love you," he ground out, as his mouth captured hers, and she kissed him sweetly, but then she push him away, and he took a step back. With a grin, she reached for the soap and his eyes became hooded, as she slowly began to rub the soap across his chest, paying special attention to each scar. His blood was rushing in his ears, as her hand moved across his chest, caressing his skin, and he inhaled sharply as her soapy hand skimmed his belly and moved downward.

She was making it hard for him to breath, as her hand grasp him and then moved running the soap over the length of him, stroking him, slick and soapy, with a strong hand. A groan escaped his lips, as he was past hard, throbbing, as he leaned into her hand, thrusting, aching, not wanting her to stop, yet wanting a lot more.

"Felicity, I can't stand it." Gasping, he reached and stilled her hand. "My turn." Stealing the soap from her, he lathered his hands up, and he started with her lovely slender neck, then running the length of her collarbone while she shuttered for him. With soapy hands, he ran down both arms. Lacing his soapy fingers with hers, he pulled her close and gently kissed her, refusing to let her deepen the kiss, even though his blood was racing, singing in his ears, even though she was pulling on her hands trying to free herself.

Pulling her head back, she was panting. Crushing her breasts into his chest, she attacked his neck making him groan and release her hands. Wasting no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, she climbed him like a tree. There was no waiting now. No, she was controlling the moment, as she found him and lowered herself slowly down.

Very hot, really tight, he let her rock on him, as she locked her heels around his back, but he wasn't going to be able to wait. Reaching back behind him, he killed the water that was becoming cold.

Moaning, she sank deep, pulled him deeper into her, and he loved it, desperately loved her reaction, gloried in her reaction as he watched her.

"Help me," she told him gasping, as she began to stroke, began to set a pace that was never going to be fast enough for him. "Please, help me."

"Shh, I will, believe me I will," he told her, as he grasp her hips and began to help her move her body, as he began to slowly kiss his way down her collarbone, tasting her skin, and slowly picking up the pace, as she moaned deeply for him. As she moved and ground herself against him, it was grand and unquestionably hot.

"Yes, right there," she cried out, as he moved his hand between to them to rub a finger over her clit, using his fingers to circle her hard nub, while she threw her head back and moaned deeply, her breath coming faster now.

She was rocking against him. Pressing herself against him, he couldn't help but pick up the pace. Hot, she was past hot and was making all those sounds that said she was lost in him.

Her hands were pulling him closer, fisting in his hair, she was frantic now as she cried out, "Oh, Oliver, I'm going to cum."

"Yes, cum for me. I can feel you, really feel you. CUM, Felicity! YES!"

Faster, he needed faster, harder, more. He was flying now, interlocked with her, as he felt her fall apart in his arms, as he supported her, as she fell gasping into his arms, as she shattered for him, but he wasn't done.

No, not yet.

His hips began to drive into her, pistoning into her as he flexed his hips, driving into her. She was humming her pleasure into his ear, as she clinched and unclinched around him, as she caught her second wind and began to meet him stroke for hard stroke.

Skin was slapping skin. Glorious skin, his breath heavy, both of them gasping, reaching and rushing. And now it was him that was needy, past needy. He wasn't going to be able to wait much longer. Sweet heavens, he truly needed her.

"Oliver, I can't wait finish it."

She threw her head back and clamped down on him. He WAS desperately lost now, as he lifted her hips and drove himself solidly into her.

"How do you feel so incredibly good?" He said. "Unbelievably good." Pumping into her, slamming his body solidly into her, he was actually absorbing every part of her as he thrust himself into her harder, and harder.

And she felt damn good.

"YES!" She was screaming, as he picked up the pace, as he drove into her, deeper it seemed than ever before. Using his arms to pull her harder against him, he used his strength to touch her everywhere. But, she was going to force him to cum.

"I can't stop, Felicity. OH. . . I'm going to cum."

"YES, don't stop, Oliver. JUST, DO IT. HARDER, FASTER. I NEED MORE GIVE ME MORE!"

"YES!" Flying, racing, giving it to her harder and faster, he was incredibility connected with her, joined, fused with her.

And both of them rushed forward, and then he was at the peak, at the very top of the peak.

In the perfect position now, he felt such a part of her and he was very deep. She was really tight, burning hot, surrounding his dick, surrounding his body, totally filling his mind. And now, he was driving desperately into her, and she was rushing to meet him, rushing greet him.

It was blazing hot, breathtakingly wonderful, and truly mind blowing.

"OLIVER!" She screamed, head thrown back, burning hot as she tightened on him, pulling him somehow deeper, both of them gasping now.

Falling, head long into the abbess, his intense feelings overwhelming him, as she drug him over the edge with her ragged breath at his neck. At the very top of the pinnacle, as his release started in his balls and he flew up mindlessly, as pure pleasure flew rapidly up his spine, then down his legs and had him flying upward with her entire body surrounding him and then his entire body EXPLODED with her.

Gasping, enjoying, almost too much loving it, he felt every inch of his body, felt incredibly alive. Sex with her was better than any adrenaline rush he'd ever experienced, as he felt every inch of her skin, as he exploded inside her, as she clinched and trembled, milking him, drawing his orgasm out.

And he couldn't stop the feelings that were engulfing him, surrounding him, making him weak when he was with her. How did she do this to him? How did she touch him so deeply?

Trembling, he found he could barely stand and had to lean against the shower wall for an instant, just coming down, as they both gasped for air. Heart pounding, amazingly alive, in a haze, he reached and grabbed a towel and carefully, he gently wrapped her up while she still fought to breath, then he carried her limp form to the bed.

Using the towel, he rubbed her skin dry, and already his blood was quickening for her again. Finishing at her feet, he threw the wet towel on the bed, his thoughts now on her.

"Hey, don't leave the wet towel on the bed." She reached and slung it in the floor.

"You do know I hate that?"

Flipping on her side, and giving him a great view, she propped her head up on her hand before she said, "Well I hate wet towels on the bed. And I hate that you're a neat freak sometimes." But her hand was tracing his chest, roaming, making him swallow hard.

"One of us has to be neat." But the wet towel in the floor was bothering him, and she giggled before giving him a push with her hand.

"Go on, Oliver. Be a neat freak. I know you're not going to be happy until you pick it up."

"Can't say the same about you." Rolling out of the bed, he grabbed up the wet towel and went to hang it in the bathroom and unable to help himself, scooped up the clothes they had discarded earlier and tossed them in the hamper.

Returning to the bed, he eyed her dress in the floor, but he refrained from picking it up. They had agreed that he would ignore her clothes in the floor as long as the pile didn't get too deep.

Reaching for him, she pulled him down with the words, "All better now?"

"I'm getting there." Then scooting down the bed, he started at the arch of her left foot, as he slowly kissed his way up her body. And her skin was sweet against his lips.

Reaching her core, he put his lips on her and sucked lightly.

"You're killing me, Oliver," she said with a gasp and a lazy grin.

"But what a way to go. Now, Felicity, hold on to me tight. I'm just getting started. I need to touch your body."

"Yes, touch me, Oliver. I want you too." And she laced her fingers through his thick hair and held on tight, as he showed her just how much he loved her and how much he needed her.

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Okay, my readers you know the drill. Hope to hear from at least a few of you. And as always thanks for the read. I love it when you take the time to TALK to me. So do it. Review. Many read and few talk. Be the one! I want to hear from you.


	31. Chapter 31

Well I promised an update for Welcome back Arrow, which I, myself, was really disappointed since none of my streams worked so it will be tomorrow before I can watch the return show, though I admit I followed twitter and that was almost like watching. LOL

Anyway I hope you enjoy this short update. Please talk to me if you have time.

Enjoy my Arrow friends.

 

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Practice started and he stretched them out. After he finished, he said, "Scott, front and center." And he pointed in front of him.

The teen still had contempt in his eyes, but he moved and said, "Yes, Coach," with a sneer.

"Hit the track."

"Seriously?" He whined.

"Take off, I want you to remember it's a privilege to kick the ball on this team, and you haven't earned that privilege yet."

Scott huffed and puffed as he stalked off toward the track.

"Jordan, front and center."

The teen narrowed his eyes and then crossed the small space to come to a stop. Crossing his his tattooed, inked covered arms, Jordan towered over him, his look brutal and threatening.

Returning her look, he growled. "You've got your only freebie."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Coach."

Someone snickered but not for long as his eyes swept the team.

Wow, the kid looked him straight in the eye and lied, and he made the word "coach" sound dirty. What a piece of work.

"I want to be clear here. Cross me again, Jordan, I'll send you straight to jail. You won't pass go, and I guarantee that you won't collect two hundred dollars."

This time more than one snickered.

"That's funny. Not." 

Jordan took a step toward him and he stepped in the young man's space, and the Arrow came out.

"You will address me as Coach, and there's nothing funny about you attacking me."

"Prove I attacked you, Coach." He spat the words.

"I gave you that bruise on your left arm, Jordan. Looking for another?"

Several of the team snickered this time, a few out loud, and he evil eyed the group, who fell into silence, no doubt waiting to see how this played out.

"I could have gotten that bruise anywhere. Who's to say, you gave it to me?"

"I won't tell again to address me as Coach, and we all know I gave you that bruise after I took Scott and Malone's metal pipes from them and yours from you. Now try me again, and I'll send you to jail long enough you might have a chance at quitting smoking, or you can be smart and learn from the experience."

"I . . ."

"I want to be sure you and all of you," he eyed each and everyone of them, and most of them ducked their heads as he went on, "that you all understand that I will NOT TOLERATE another attack on anything that belongs to me. Now hit the track. It's a privilege to kick the ball on this team and you, like Scott, haven't earned that privilege yet."

Disrespect filled Jordan's face and his eyes narrowed.

"And Jordan if you're thinking about calling on your street friends to pay me a little visit, don't worry, I take care of mine, and if they attack me, bother me at all, it will be you that goes to jail, I'll make sure of it. I know who you're flying colors for. Understand me?"

Silence answered him and then Jordan hissed the words. "Yes, Coach."

"Then hit the track."

If looks could kill, he'd dropping dead right about now.

"Malone, step up."

The dark headed young man with long hair, and an ace bandage wrapped around his right wrist moved to stand before him but he wouldn't meet him eyes.

"How's the wrist?

"Hurts, Coach."

"You got anything to say Malone to help your case?"

The large young man bit his lip then shook his head. "No, Coach, I've got a feeling talking's  going to make it worse. Can I go run now?"

Most of the team laughed.

"Good choice. But, Malone, understand, you attack me, again, and I'll really hurt you, not just bruise your wrist. Understand?

"Got it, Coach. Understood!"

Malone raised his head, gave a small salute, and met his eyes, and he thought he saw true guilt in the teens eyes so he softened his tone, "Then hit the track."

Head down, feet dragging, Malone joined Jordan and Scott running the track.

"Show's over, gentlemen. Everyone grab their ball. Today, we're learning to move the ball up and down the field."

Several groaned and he stopped and looked into the group. "Did I hear someone else say they wanted to run?"

The words, "No Coach," resounded through the air.

"I thought not. Now, we're going to work on being a team, on learning how to set the ball for another player. When the ball's flying at you here's what you do. See how I'm locking my foot in the shape of the letter L, then I use the inside of my foot to kick, to keep control of the ball. Dean kick me your ball."

Dean kicked and Oliver used the inside of his foot and the ball repelled off his foot and rolled a short distance and stopped.

"See how I slowed the ball down but it still got away from me? Now if we're working as a team, it would have been someone's job to be right there and pass the ball to another player down the field."

"Dean, Tyler come here and bring a ball." He pointed, and said, "You two stay here."

Walking about ten feet down the field, he said, "Nick and Adrian, come here."

Nick ran to him, but Adrian hung back and drug his feet, and he caught the bitter scent of cigarettes as the teen got closer to him. But he ignored it. Felicity had warned him the Adrian was unfriendly to her, which meant he needed to work with the teen, not alienate him further.

"What I want you to do is use a soft touch to slow the ball, let the ball bounce off the inside of your foot then one of your team mates will kick it back to a player on the other side, who will then set the ball for the next person, so he can kick it back. Now let's try it. Tyler, kick me a ball."

Oliver used his right foot to absorb the ball's impact. "See, I'm not trying to stop the ball, I'm absorbing the impact, slowing the ball down, making the ball where I can set it for another player to smoothly pass it back. Controlling the ball as a team is what I want here. We have to work together. And I don't want any of you to touch the ball more than once. Adrian, kick the ball back to Dean softly. A soft touch is what I want. I want control not strength. Show me."

Adrian used the side of his foot to return the ball toward Dean, who ran and managed to bounce it off his foot.

"Good Dean, and yes, chase the ball. Soccer's about running and controlling the ball. Good job both of you. Tyler kicked the ball back to Nick."

Nick returned the ball and managed to set the ball for Adrian.

"Better keep it up. We're learning to work like a team here."

Pointing and calling out names, he split up the rest of the players to practice setting the ball, then walked among them giving them pointers and encouragement.

"Alonzo, I know you're strong but softer. I don't want you to kick the ball so hard it pops up during the reception. Gentlemen, I want you all of you to try to keep the ball on the ground. Soft touch is what I want."

"Russell, remember to use the side of your foot to kick and set the ball, not your toes. Soccer is not kick ball. Watch." He stopped and demonstrated the technique again and then one more time.

"Better, Dean." He noted that the teen with almost purple hair smiled. "You're getting there. Keep practicing."

"Adrian, nice pass. Not too hard or soft. Perfect."

And the young man almost smiled, actually met his eyes for an instant before he ducked his head.

Stepping back to the sidelines, he watched them.

Some got better as they practice and others, well others not very much, but at least each of them tried. 

His eyes noted the three teens slowly running the track together, no doubt planning his downfall. He didn't like that he'd have to let them play again, for each practice they missed they missed out on learning how to play soccer. And he knew he'd have to work with them to catch them up.

And yes, time slipped quickly away, and he knew he needed to make some real decisions about what positions each teen played. Watching his team work the ball, he wondered again, about which one would play goalie.

He needed to find a goalie, someone who could actually catch the ball, but up to now his search for a goalie had been a total failure. The goalie had to be able to block and catch the ball and most of them seemed scared of the ball. And a scared goalie wasn't a good goalie. No, a goalie who couldn't block the ball would get them scored on repeatedly, and they'd lose.

They might lose but he didn't want his team crushed.

Something had disrupted the team. 

Everyone on the field had stopped, froze, looking off the field. 

Jerking his head around, he saw Felicity walking toward the soccer field. She walked across the green grass, swinging her high heels by their tiny straps in her left hand, wearing a hot little pink flowery number that flattered her ass. 

His eyes moved upward and he realized she wore flaming hot, pink lipstick, the kissproof one that brought back some nice memories of him proving he could kiss that lipstick off her lips. 

His heart sped up and his breath deepened at the thought and his dick reminded him, it existed.

Groaning softly, he realized   her dress alone gave every member of his team a good eyeful of not just her awesome backside but her splendid long shapely legs. 

Time stopped, as the entire team froze dead in their tracks. Soccer balls rolled to a stop, as every teen's eye trained on her barefooted sexy body walking with purpose toward him.

As soon as she got close to the field, she waved and yelled, "Hi, Nick, Marcus and Adrian."

Nick stumbled. No, he darn near fell over himself, and Adrian turned and slammed into Marcus waving back.

"Good afternoon. Hi Alonzo." 

Jesus, her smile.

"Hi Dean and hey, David." 

Both of them, instantly ran over the person passing the ball to them.

She waved again and acknowledged, Russell, who puffed out his broad chest and kicked his ball way too hard, forcing Josh, with his sun bleached blonde hair to chase it, after he stood and stared at her for an instant.

"Felicity, is something wrong? You're disrupting practice." 

"Sorry, Oliver, I mean Coach." Yet, the smile on her face told him she was anything but sorry and nothing was wrong.

"Team, pay attention. Go back to setting the ball," he yelled at them, and slowly the teens went back to kicking and passing the soccer ball, but he could tell them still looked at her.

"And nothing's wrong except, Oliver, Mindy's in labor. And Mindy's mom has been going crazy looking for Tyler, and his mom has her phone shut off."

"What? Mindy's in labor?"

"Yeah and no one has a clue where Tyler's mom is. Mindy's panicked that Tyler's not going to come and be there for the baby. After I heard, I realized he was at practice and you have his phone in lock up, so, he can't answer it. And, then Mindy told me that Tyler can't miss practice because his coach is a real hard ass. Of course, she didn't know that I was living with the" she made air quotes, "HARD ASS, so, I offered to come and collect him."

"Nice to know I've gotten that point across. And I see you managed to meet Mindy didn't you?"

"Oliver, I'm working at the hospital and the entire place is buzzing about how upset this young girl is that her baby's daddy's going to miss the birth. She's fifteen for God's sake. Of course, I managed to meet her. I walked right up and introduced myself. And since, I kind of know the coach, I figured you would let him leave practice early with me."

Shaking his head and barely suppressed his smile. "Tyler!" He yelled as he waved the teen toward him.

The slender young man stopped in his tracks and ran toward him. "What Coach? Hi, Ms. Felicity!"

A flash of  jealously struck him, as the teen received what he considered to be one of his Felicity smiles. Chiding himself, he knew he had nothing to worry about, that none of these teens would interest her, yet, that didn't stop him from not wanting to share.

"Tyler, Mindy's in labor." The words were probably a little harsher than they should be, but he couldn't help it.

"Now? The baby's coming now. Are you sure? She's not due for a couple more weeks."

Felicity tipped her blonde head. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure from the way Mindy's screamed when I left. Tyler, trust me, she's really in labor, and though I know little about them, babies seem to come when they want to. Come on, the nurse said that she was getting close. Guess she's been in labor all day."

Tyler immediately grayed.

He got that the teen had freaked out. "Go on, Tyler. Screaming's part of having babies. Go, be with her. She needs you. I'll be around in a while after practice and check on you and your new baby. Go tell Officer Walker, I said to give you your phone."

"Really? You're going to stop by later? Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm your coach. Of course, I want to meet your new son, and I need to check on how Phil's doing." 

He noted Tyler's face held disbelief.

"Come on, Tyler," Felicity said, "Hurry up and go get changed and get your phone. Mindy's waiting for you. And that baby's not going to wait forever to be born."

Tyler turned and ran toward the locker room.

Felicity looked up at him and then ask, "Coach, I'll see you at the hospital later?"

The smile she graced him with amazed him, and he schooled his face to not grin back like an idiot. "Yeah, for sure, I'll see you later."

Slowly, she winked at him and a small grin escaped his face. 

No, he couldn't help it. As he watched, she raised her hand and waved at the team and several of them tripped over themselves, as they waved back at her, and he smiled, as he shook his head.

 Why was he not surprised that she made such an impression on them, since she'd made such an impression on him?

Yet, he had to forced himself to not watch her ass, as she walked away. Instead, he ran out onto the field to continue practice. "Pay attention. I want your eyes right here on me" he yelled at them, as he ran in and stole the ball, engaging them in practice setting the ball, now wanting to catch any of them looking at her ass as she walked away.

Practice passed swiftly, and he stretched the team out before he ran them, then stretched them out again, and  sent them to the showers. After the last straggler finally left the locker room, he started the laundry. Checking his phone for the time, he noticed Felicity had texted him.

"It's a BOY!" The words, with plenty of happy emoticons, filled the screen, then the words, "C U soon?"

Tyler had becomr a father. 

A small nagging thought struck him, as he found himself wondering again if they might someday have a child together, if someday she might text him with the same words, only this time it would be his child.

He frowned for no, he didn't want a text when they found out their baby's sex. No, he wanted to be right there to hear the words. Truly, he wanted to stand right there as the ultrasound technician told them what sex their child, their baby was. 

 His stomach plummeted, and he quickly brushed those thoughts away, knowing he was hardly father material.

Locking up, he walked up the ramp, climbed on his bike, and headed over to the hospital, his thoughts on Tyler and Mindy, and the reality they were parents. 

Children raising children, and the idea depressed him, yet who knew? Mmaybe Tyler, who wanted to be loved, and Mindy, who seemed to love Tyler, could somehow love a baby and each other and make it work.

Stranger things had happened.

 And that thought somehow gave him hope, as he rode his bike toward the hospital and Felicity, who thank the heavens, still loved him. And yes, even though they had problems, life was pretty darn good right now.

And he smiled and realized that yes, he was happy.

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	32. Chapter 32

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Arriving at the hospital, Oliver found Phil still in critical care. Opening his least favorite unit's door, the strong smell of disinfectant returned him to those days he'd waited to see if Felicity would truly live. Entering the unit, he waved at Becky, a wonderfully cheerful nurse, who'd taken care of not just Felicity, but him too a short time ago. He liked Becky even if she was bossy, even if she'd pushed him to go home and sleep, pushed him to go and get something to eat, while he'd waited all those hours for Felicity to get better.

Heading straight for her, he turned on that smile, the one that normally got him his way, as she looked up from her computer and said, "Let me guess you're looking for Phil Rice too?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" He grinned not having to work very hard on his smile, for he genuinely liked and respected the young woman that had taken such good care of them both.

Shaking her head, she said with a slight huff, "Phil's really popular today, and truly, Oliver Queen everyone around here knows that you're Phil Rice's soccer coach, and that he had a seizure during practice yesterday and landed in the hospital. And besides you just missed your Ms. Felicity."

His chest swelled at the words "his Ms. Felicity." And that would be his Felicity, always keeping her eye on the mission, and right now she considered his team their mission, and this time he actually smiled before saying, "Yeah, and there's that reliable small town gossip thing. Of course, everyone knows."

"But not everyone knows why he seizured." She typed on the computer before she added, "Or why Mae's keeping Phil knocked out right now." Her voice lowered as she added, "And just maybe it's none of their business. Bless his heart, the poor boy."

"Yeah, for Phil's sake I agree we should keep them in the dark." He turned up his smile's wattage.

Smiling back, she stood and slowly crossed her arms in front of her chest, before she said quietly, "I went to school with Phil's mom, Nancy. Okay, I'll grant that we weren't real friends, but still I grew up with her, and I understand Phil needs help not gossip. And Oliver, you might not know it but another thing about small town is we know how to take care of our own."

He gave a sharp nod. "Point taken. Well, would you tell him I stopped by when he wakes up? And that I'll be back to check on him."

"Sure, I'll tell him. Several of his friends have also dropped by to see him, but Mae still has him on no visitors."

"No visitors?"

"Mae's orders. No one but family. And sorry I know you're not family. "

"You're right I'm not. But, I'll try again tomorrow."

"You do that. But Oliver, it's real nice of you and Ms. Felicity to bother to take the time to come by and check on him."

He shrugged before he said, "Phil's a member of my team, so, of course, I'm going to check on him when he's sick, and I'm glad to hear his friends have stopped by too. I've talked to them about being a team and how teams support each other, and I'm glad some of them have acted on my advice."

"Not every coach would bother showing up or try to get those boys to act like a team." She uncrossed her arms and waved a finger at him before saying, "especially an unpaid soccer coach, who had to learn how to play soccer to coach the game."

"Is there anything people don't know around here?"

"Plenty. Though I hear you're getting better control of the ball now." She gave him a slight wink before saying, "But all joking aside, people are talking about what a great job you're doing with those troubled kids."

"Well that remains to be seen. We're still getting started. It takes time and hard work to become a real team."

She gave a wave of her hand before saying,"Oh, I'm sure they'll do fine once they start playing real games. And believe it or not, the talk is good about how your practices are going. And a lot of people are talking about coming to out to watch the games, planning on doing some tailgating and such."

"Really? Tailgating? Doesn't that have something to do with cooking?" He swallowed and breathed out, his mind trying to grasp the fact that people were planning to attend his team's games. He'd never considered that people would attend the games, hadn't even given it much thought. No, he'd been too busy just trying to teach them how to play.

She laughed before she said, "Yeah, you know? We bring the grills to the parking lot and cook food like chicken and such. My husband makes some mean hot wings, though I personally like easy dishes. Take and warm using the crock pot and plugging it into the inverter, things like chili and nachos, but a lot of people grill burgers and hot dogs." Putting her hand beside her mouth, she said quietly, "And we drink a few beers and maybe a wine cooler here and there. It's a block party kind of thing, a potluck almost. Lots of fun for the fans."

He cleared his throat, before he said, "Really? Fans? How many people are we talking about here?"

"Well I'm pretty sure most of the hospital staff's going to come out and support your team. Mae's got quite the following around here. Heck, she delivered a lot of us, so, of course, we're going to come out and support her husband's pet project. I, personally, think it'll be fun. Something new to do. I'm looking forward to your games."

Alright, he momentary found that he couldn't speak as his mind replayed the fact that people like Becky intended to come and watch the games, that they intended to cook and party in the parking lot, and that they intended to turn the soccer games into a party. He inhaled sharply as he wondered what they would do after they watched his team play terribly bad soccer.

Heck, he didn't even have a goalie yet. His team was not excelling at playing soccer and most of them could hardly pass or trap the ball yet. His stomach tightened as a head ache started between his eyes as he wondered what people would think after the new wore off his bad team.

And he was pretty sure that they were going to lose badly, at least in the beginning until they got some experience under their belts.

Becky chose this minute to laugh before asking him, "What, Oliver, didn't you think this town wouldn't come out and support your team? What are you thinking? If just the people that are related to your team players come, hundreds could show up at the first game.

"Hundreds?"

Reaching out, he gripped the desk for support.

"Sure most of those kid's families will come in force just to see these teens do something good for a change, something they can be proud of them for. And you do realize that two of your players' parents work here?"

He pressed his lips together, his mind scrambling to take in what she'd just told him, while trying to remember which parents worked where.

"Right, give me a second, let me think." Facts began to click in his head. "Oh, yeah, Marcus' dad, Jacob works security at nights, and Russell's mom works housekeeping here too. Her name's Carol, maybe?"

"I'm impressed you knew that much. But no, her name is Karen. Karen Collins. And Oliver, she's very proud Russell's playing soccer. She's becoming your teams personal cheerleader, has even started your team a Facebook page."

"Facebook? Can't say I do Facebook." He arched an eyebrow.

He didn't add there been no internet on the island or in any of those other places he'd been those five years, or explain that he'd missed the entire social media explosion. Nor did he admit this conversation was swiftly becoming one of those times when he became lost in topics he didn't understand, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Yes, even after being back for three years, he didn't want or care to understand social media. Felicity handled those things for him, and it was a darn shame she wasn't here right now for he had a feeling he needed rescuing right now.

"Well, you should learn. Here let me show you your Facebook page. Karen's done a really nice job on it."

She hit the space bar on the computer and a few clicks later, she flipped the screen around to show him a webpage that contained pictures of the team running on the field chasing the ball. His eyes tracked that each of the member of the team had a picture and a link that said bio and another that said video.

His hand tightened on the desk, as he realized someone had cropped a picture of him standing with his arms crossed, a hard look on his face.

And yes, he looked seriously intense.

Now that he thought of it, he'd noted people milling around during practice which meant people were already coming to watch him and the team's progress. Looking back, yes, he'd seen people playing on their phones, normal behavior anymore since most people's phones were glued to their hands. Now he knew some of them were also taking pictures.

Hmmm. He was truly slipping and letting things escape his notice. His chest felt heavy unexpectedly.

"I didn't know."

"Well the page hasn't been up that long but your page already has over a hundred likes."

"Likes? I would guess that's good thing?"

"Of course it's good. You want people to like your page. It's like having followers on Twitter. You tweet, don't you?"

She looked at him expectedly, sweetly, and he realized he didn't have a clue.

"Tweet? No, I don't. But, I'll just take your word for it. Look Becky, I want to warn you, I don't know how well the team will play. They could play badly, since they're just learning. Plus I'm just pushing them to play, to learn something new. This is not about winning. I hope people'll understand that we're probably going to lose as least to begin with."

"Awe, Oliver, don't worry about it. Win or lose, we'll have a good time. Some people will never make it out of the parking lot. That's the way it works. So, don't stress on it. Most people will understand this is your first season, and your team will get better. You'll see."

Easy for her to say, he thought, as he wondered if they would still be living here next season and after a losing a season would anyone would even want him to coach?

Suddenly, he hoped that they would still be living here, for he liked coaching, he liked doing what he was doing, liked that maybe he was changing a teen's life.

"And I almost forgot to say that it's wonderful to see Ms. Felicity looking well."

"Yes, it is." Now that statement he could get behind.

"My patients don't always get better, so it nice when one makes a full recovery." She turned and began to straighten the charts on the desk before she said, "I'd heard Ms. Felicity's working here, but I hadn't seen her before today."

She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him, before she said, "And how have you been feeling lately? Are you keeping your blood pressure under control? You do realize how lucky you were last week, Oliver? I thought things were going to go south with you and you're a lucky man to have survived an attack like that unscathed."

Ouch!

The warnings were going off in his head, and he knew he needed to get out of here and now. The next thing he knew she would actually suggest taking his blood pressure.

He released the desk slowly, before he put his hand up and waved at her.

"Look, I've got to go. Felicity's waiting on me. Been nice talking to you, hope to see you again soon."

"Oliver, wait, you didn't answer me. Has Mae's gotten your numbers under control or not? You were in real danger the last time you were in here. Maybe, I should get a reading while you're here? I've got the time."

"NO! It's fine. Mae's keeping a close eye on things. I don't have time right now. Felicity's waiting on me to go and visit someone else. It's been nice seeing you, Becky, but I've truly got to go."

"Tyler and Mindy's new baby, I bet?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I heard in the cafe that child, Mindy, had gone into labor. Bless her heart, guess her single mama's going to have to raise another one, since that girl's daddy is long gone, and Tyler needs to finish school. Quitting high school isn't what he should do right now baby or not. That boy's smart and needs to go to college but now who knows what will happen?"

"Of, course you'd know Mindy and Tyler's situation." He shook his head before adding, "Small towns are like that. I'm starting to understand that fact."

And he smiled and she gave him a small grin before she said, "Well if you've gotten it figured out then good for you. I've lived here my entire life, and I don't have the local gossip mill figured out most of the time. But I do know it's hard to hide a very pregnant fifteen year old in this digital day and age. And I feel for them."

"I understand that."

"And both Mindy and Tyler have single moms who raised them, though I'm sure they'll figure it out. They're hardly the first teenagers in this town to have a baby out of wedlock. As a matter of fact, my single mom had me at seventeen, and I've turned out pretty well."

Not knowing what to say, he said nothing, instead he just nodded, and gave a small wave, with the words, "I've truly have to go, Becky. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye."

Turning sharply on his heel, he almost ran Mae over and had to reach out and catch her, as she walked briskly through the swinging doors, totally slamming into him, as he came to a screeching stop, steadying her with his hands, then quickly releasing her and taking taking a step back.

"Thank you, Oliver."

She also took a step back, and gave her white coat a pull to straighten it, as she smiled up at him before she said, "Now I'd bet you're here checking on Phil, since I know you'd never willing come to see me."

"Now, Mae, that's just not true." But his stomach had just dropped like a stone into a well.

The look she gave him said plainly she knew he was lying, even before the word "Bull" broke the air.

"Okay, I'm busted Mae, does that make you feel better?"

"No, it doesn't. I'd like us to be friends. You remind me of my son, Oliver. And, I like you and Felicity. You know I only had one child, so I'll never get to be a grandmother. And someday I'd truly like to hold your and Felicity's child. And maybe when you two do have a baby, you'd consider making me a godmother and let Warren and I babysit once and a while?"

"We like you too," his chest tightened. "But we haven't talked about children yet."

"Well maybe you should. You're getting older you know?"

Pasting his fake smile on, he got ready to ride this conversation out, as he stuck his hand in his pocket hunting her hair tie, and he gave a small sigh as he touched it. Letting the silence reign for an instant, he then said, "Okay, you're right, I was here to see Phil but as you know he's asleep.  How's he doing today? Any improvement?"

Finding himself wishing for an escape plan, needing an escape plan, he breathed out and hoped Mae wouldn't make this conversation worse by asking about his health or his sex life, even though he knew how much good hoping did.

Grabbing a chart off the nurses' desk, Mae snapped it open.

"Phil's still a sick young man. I've been prescribing his meds to run out about every four hours to see if he can wake up."

She frowned then said, "Last wake up happened at 3:35 p.m., but the nurse's notes say he's was still agitated and confused. And he also experienced nausea and vomited before the med's put him back down."

"So, Phil's still in DT's."

He stated it flatly, with a frown.

"Yeah, I'm thinking I'm just going to keep him sleep until tomorrow morning and see how it goes. No sense in torturing the poor boy, though at this rate, it's probably going to be at least another day or maybe two before I can truly let him wake up. He's been drinking way too much for detoxing to be easy."

"I'm glad you're not making him suffer, Mae. Trust me, being unconscious when you're in pain is much easier than being awake."

"That sounds like the voice of experience talking."

She gave him a long look and then continued, as she said,"And what good would it do for me to make him suffer when he's suffered enough?"

The smile fell off her face before she said, "I knew Nancy's boy was on your team, but I didn't know it was him when I took the call yesterday. Not that it would have mattered but still."

"You knew his mother?"

"Yes, Oliver, I knew his mother."

Her face seemed sad and drawn.

Yes, Mae looked pained before she said quietly, "I diagnosed Nancy's breast cancer, and I watched her and Eli slowly lose the good fight. The last thing I would ever do is to put that boy through another seizure or make detoxing harder on him. He's been through enough just watching his mother die slowly and his father lose his wife. Though, I admit I would have never believed that a fifteen-year-old boy could drink that much. His mother would be appalled, truly heart broken."

He grimaced before he said, "I'm sure she would be, but I think the real question here is why a fifteen-year-old would drink that much, Mae? What kind of pain does Phil have to be in to get up every morning and drink whiskey he stole from his father? Who let me mention, had not even happened to notice Phil's drinking."

"Hmm, a least we know where he's been getting the booze."

"Like that helps. Phil's been drinking long enough that his friend's expect him to come to school buzzed, to come to school drunk. Yes, he's a drunk and everyone around him knows it, everyone except for his father. That says something about their relationship doesn't it?"

She gave him a weird look before she narrowed her eyes and said, "What it says is Eli needs to keep a closer eye on Phil."

"Yes, he does."

"Look, Oliver, Eli's been doing the best he can. He's been through a lot, and he and Phil's have some real anger issues."

Looking around, he noted that they were alone at the nurses' desk for Becky had disappeared, no doubt with a patient. "And you're making excuses for Eli, for both of them. And maybe Phil's got a reason to be angry."

"Well, of course, he does. He lost his mother."

"And maybe his father too."

"Oliver, Eli's still alive."

"Barely, Mae. Look, Phil's living in a war zone. His entire house's is beaten up, beaten to pieces. I don't think there's a wall or door that hasn't seen someone's fist or foot in his entire house. The mirror in the bathroom is pretty much gone, though there a big piece of it left hanging jaggedly on the wall."

"You do have a flair for the dramatic, don't you Oliver?"

"Maybe, but I'd bet that there isn't a plate or dish left in the house from the pile of broken dishes in the sink and don't get me started about the trash and the clothes on the floor. Mae, Phil's house is a disaster area, and no one living in his house seems to be lifting a finger to clean it up. Honestly, I'd say Phil's not the only one with anger issues or with lousy coping skills."

Mae frowned, before she said, "I won't ask how you know that, Oliver. Because breaking and entering is against the law. But, there's no doubt about it, Eli's really angry. And I don't blame him. He lost his better half, slowly, painfully, and I'd heard he's been drinking a lot since Nancy died. And, yes, the second time Phil got in trouble, Warren threatened Eli with contempt of court for back talking him in court."

"Yeah, the man's differently outspoken."

"To say the least and maybe, Warren should have put him in jail, but Eli had just buried Nancy, and we all knew it. And Phil getting in trouble with the juvenile court system sure didn't help. Eli was beside himself."

"I've met the man and I just bet he was. He seems to care about what other people think."

"Unlike you, Oliver?"

He ignored that comment as he said, "However, the man has a negative attitude about helping Phil with his drinking. Seems to think he can't do anything about it. I told him he could at least lock his liquor up, make it harder for Phil to steal it from him. Eli needs to be Phil's father and put his foot down, needs to make sure Phil gets some real help."

"Eli's a good man, who's doing the best he can. He works the shrimp boat which means he works hard and is gone a lot. And Nancy died leaving him two teenagers to raise on top of making a living. Don't judge him, Oliver. What would you do if Felicity died and left you two teenagers you didn't know what to do with?"

Oliver frowned knowing he'd be lost without Felicity. He sighed then said, "Checkmate, Mae, but I'd like to think if Phil was my son, I'd make sure he got help. Eli seems intent on ignoring the fact that Phil has spent the last two years dealing with his mom's death by drinking whiskey, by drinking excessive amounts to stay high, so he doesn't have to face his grief or his life. And it was his mom, Phil was talking to after he had his seizure. He wanted his mom. I'd say Phil's the one that's heart broken here."

"The DT's are like that. People see things that aren't there."

"I know that but my point is you can dry Phil out but if something doesn't change just as soon as he can, he'll go back to drinking. I think it's all he knows now. And the only reason he stopped to begin with is I threatened him with rehab if he came to practice drinking one more time."

Carefully, Mae shut Phil's file and laid it back on the counter, tapping her fingers against the file as she said, quietly, "I see your point. I'll talk to Eli about some type of program, about getting him some real help."

"I've already tried that. Let's just say Eli didn't seem receptive to the idea of Phil entering rehab."

"Maybe it would be better coming from me. I'm sorry but you are the outsider here."

"That's true but I personally don't think Eli believes Phil even needs help. He thinks Phil's doing this for attention."

"Well if need be, then I'll talk to Warren and get something court ordered."

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he pulled it out and saw Felicity had texted him.

"Where r u? Ur taking 4ever! Come c the BABY!"

"Mae, I've got to go. Another of my team's girlfriend has had her baby, and Felicity's wondering what's keeping me."

"It's nice to see you taking such an interest in your team. It will please Warren."

"I'm hardly taking an interest to please Warren." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm well aware of that. And I've a feeling you've never spent much time in your life, worrying about pleasing a judge or maybe anyone." She smirked at him.

Silence seemed the best answer to that statement.

"Hold up, Oliver, I've got a few free minutes which means I've got time to check your blood pressure." She said the words like her taking his blood pressure was a fun event he'd been missing out on.

He suppressed a groan as he said, with a sharp shake of his head, "NO! I don't have time right now."

"Don't you tell me NO young man. You have nothing but time with it comes to your health. And it will only take a few minutes. We can use the break room. Follow me."

Flashing her his most charming smile, the one that normally could get him out of things he didn't want to do, he tried to back pedal with the words, "No, thanks, I'll just pass since I'm not the patient today, Mae."

"And let's keep it that way." She then leaned toward him a little bit as she said, "Oliver, let me be truthful with you, you're a really rotten patient."

"Never said I wasn't." He said, even as he unexpectedly yawned.

"And you're tired, Oliver, and don't listen to any of my orders. Just like why do I have a feeling you're still pushing yourself? What exactly are you doing in all those hours that you're not sleeping? Running? Kicking the soccer ball on the beach? Pushing yourself?"

Mae always managed to transport him back to age six. Instantly, her look reminded him of the time Raisa had caught him putting a lizard in his, soon to be gone, nanny's purse.

"No, Mae it's okay. I've got to go, Felicity's waiting for me."

"That's a weak excuse and we both know it. Felicity would want me to check your numbers, so text her and tell her you're going to be late. Or do you want me to call her?"

He grimaced.

"Thought not. Now, follow me, Oliver."

And her tone, and the way she walked away, clearly told him she expected him to follow.

The memory of heading to the principal's office, assaulted him as he followed her down the hall. Only he'd never minded the principal, but he had minded Raisa's disappointed look when he got home from school. Now Mae and Raisa could hang out together for he had a feeling Mae was about be disappointed in him. Exhaling deeply, he followed her into a small break room.

"Sit down, Oliver. You know the drill."

Finding himself almost praying his numbers were good, totally against his will, he held out his left arm, placed his feet flat on the floor and tried to slow his heart rate. Yet, instead his heart rate increased, as he tried desperately to control his breathing, while hoping for better numbers.

"Have you heard that Tyler's Mindy had the baby boy?"

"I think you mentioned that. Quit stalling, Oliver. And babies happen when you have unprotected sex. At least, that won't happen to you since you and Felicity are currently abstaining."

Frowning, looking down, he refused to answer her or meet her eyes.

"Truly, Oliver?" She smacked him on the left arm with the back of her hand. "Didn't I warn you? You could die on top of her."

"Stop talking, Mae." He shut his eyes as heat filled his face, his cheeks warming. Forcing himself, he opened his eyes to see her unhappy face.

"Oliver? You're not abstaining are you? Do you bother to listen to anything I say?" She shook her pointer finger at him with the words, "I swear you're a rotten patient, Oliver Queen. So, you broke that rule did you? Why am I not surprised?" Her voice rising, she huffed hard then added, "Why would I even think that you would listen to my orders? You have a death wish, don't you? What am I'm going to do with you, Oliver?"

Frowning at him, she shook her head and he cringed before he said, "Okay me to have sex, for Mae, you're right I'm not going to listen, honestly no matter what my numbers are, I'm absolutely done not having sex."

"What you are is absolutely . . ." she seemed to struggle with herself, before she shook her head and said, "WICKED aren't you? And here I thought you were going to live to have babies yourself and make me a godmother."

She lifted an eyebrow at him and he bit his lip before releasing it to say, "If it helps any, Felicity was all for it. The sex not the babies part." His stomach flipped over, and he looked at his shoes again for an instant before looking up and facing her stern look.

With a tiny shake of her head, she said, "Frankly, I'm surprised you two lasted without sex this long. Assure me you're at least still taking your meds?"

"Faithfully, I'm living with Felicity the pill police. Cross my heart."

"Well everyone has their burden to bear. Now be quiet, I want a good reading and need to get over being mad at you." She began to pump the cuff up, and the darn cuff hurt his arm as she swiftly pumped the meter up to 200.

"That only has to go to 180, you know?"

"Oh, I know that." Her tone sharp as she gave the cuff a few more pumps and the blood rushed painfully through his veins.

"And didn't I tell you to HUSH? Just nod your head, Oliver. Are you tired? Remember I want THE TRUTH. Lying to me right now is a terrible idea. Believe me!"

Raisa would have been proud of Mae's tone, and he gave a sharp nod, obeying.

"Headache?"

He gave a one shoulder shrug.

"Which means what? Yes or no, Oliver? Shrugging is hardly an answer."

Swallowing hard, he nodded slowly. Heaven help him, he could tell from her frown that Mae would be raising his dose, again.

"Dreams any better?"

This time he shook his head with a bitter frown and a hard face.

"And why am I not surprised that your numbers are still too high? So, I'm going to up your dose again."

"No, don't, Mae. Please, I'm exhausted now. I don't want a higher dose."

"Well, I think we've discussed the fact that you're not a doctor, which makes this is my call not yours. And the dose you're taking is clearly not working, since your blood pressure's still too high. Come on, Oliver, do you want a real heart attack? Or a stroke? Want to take another walk and met the new stroke victims? I've got a fifty something man that has lost his right side in just yesterday. And guess what, he isn't left handed?"

"Funny, Mae. NO, I don't want another tour, but I don't want a higher dose either."

"Sorry, this is the way this works. I start with a low dose and then keep upping the dose until it works, or I have to change medications, or until your blood pressure gets into manageable numbers and out of the stroke range."

"Well this medication is NOT working since you keep upping the dose. All it's doing is making me tired. And I hate being tired. I think it's time to try something else."

His words held a growl to them.

She gave him a hard look.

"It's a trial and error kind of thing, Oliver. And this is my drug of choice. I want it to work for it for you because it has proven results to reduce the nightmares in PTSD patients. And you need relief from the nightmares. You've just got to give it a few more days, maybe another week to give it time to work."

"I've given it time, like two weeks of my time. I should be getting some kind of results by now."

"I know you're frustrated. Trust me I am too over your body not responding as quickly as I'd like it to the dosage, but you need to give me a couple more days. Please, Oliver even if you don't seem to think you need to take care of yourself, would you think about Felicity and what your dying would do to her? And think about me for I like you and would miss you."

No, he refused to think like that. "Right Mae you'd really miss me. I find that hard to believe. And, I'm not that easy to kill but what I am is dragging. I'm exhausted and if you up my dose again, I don't know if I can handle it. I can barely get around now."

"Wow, I think that's the most honest you've ever been with me. Then sleep more, Oliver. Go to bed and sleep."

"Easy for you to say." He couldn't control his harsh tone.

She reached and padded his hand lightly before she withdrew with the words, "I promise in a couple days you'll get used to the higher dose and your energy levels will come back up. Your body will adjust, and you won't be this tired. I'm trying to make the dreams go away, Oliver, and control your blood pressure. It's going to get better. Trust me?"

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a prescription pad and began to write left handed.

He realized he'd never noticed she was left handed and the thought he truly was slipping, losing his edge for the second time today, crossed his mind.

"I'm trying to trust you but I doubt that I'll adjust to a new dose that quickly." He shook his head before he said, "And I still don't believe that pill's going to get rid of my dreams."

"Well at least I don't have to worry about the placebo effect with you, since you have NO expectations that your condition could improve."

Shutting his eyes for an instant, he fought the anger that tightened his gut as he said, "And this new dose had better not come with the words no sex because I'm done with that." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned.

With a shake of her head, she said, "Don't pout, Oliver. It hardly becomes you. And now the real truth comes out. You don't care about being tired, Oliver, it's the abstaining part that's giving you a problem."

"Darn right it is." Though he didn't finish the sentence with the words because I need to touch her, for that would have made him sound needy, even if it was probably the truth, he wasn't admitting it out loud.

Mae drew his attention back with the words. "Oliver, I give up. Fine, I'll order that you have to have sex with the higher dose, then maybe you'll sleep hard enough not to dream and you'll SLEEP for more than three or four hours. And get better."

"So, now sex is okay, Mae?" He stopped and frowned at her before saying. "That's not like you. You're caving way too easily. What's the catch?"

She grinned and then said, "I am not. And the catch? There isn't one. I've just figured out you're going to do what you want anyway and you don't listen to me anyway."

"That's not true."

"Don't act insulted. You know it is. Look me straight in the eye and tell me you'll truly refrain if I do tell you no sex?"

His smile threatened before he cleared his throat.

"Well?"

"Okay, you're probably right, since I didn't die this morning."

Okay, he couldn't hold back his smile at the memory of them together this morning. She fulfilled him totally and he was going to have sex every chance he could. He'd spent years refraining.

"So that makes it worth the risk?"

"Seemed like it at the time."

"Do you want me to write you a prescription for sex too, because I will?"

"Oh, you're funny today, Mae, a real riot."

"Oliver, I used to be young. And, believe me, Warren and I had lots of sex, probably more than most." She winked at him and he couldn't stop the slight smile that lit his face. Ripping the prescription off the pad, she began to write again.

"Stop talking, Mae, that's way more information than I need to know."

"Oliver, anyone that looks at you two can see that you want each other. And," she narrowed her eyes at him before saying "I've got a feeling that you've still pushing yourself to extremes. What are you doing with all those hours you don't sleep? I heard say you before that you don't watch TV. And you don't look like the reading type."

"Never picked up the TV habit. You watch TV?"

"Yes, I have a couple shows I watch when I have time, but you just avoided my question about what you're doing with yourself for the second time. When you do that I know you're not listening to me and you're pushing yourself. I know you're lying to me AGAIN."

She ripped the paper off the prescription pad with a flourish before adding, "Fine, since you haven't had another attack, Oliver, sex is probably not going to kill you. Now, I'm upping your dose to 15 mg in the morning and 15 mg at night and you'll let me know how the dreams are when I see you on Monday."

Handing him both pieces of paper, she added, "And have you given any thought to going and seeing Riley? Maybe he could teach you some coping skills for your PSTD other than exercising."

Exhaling sharply, he ground out the words, "I'm coping."

"You can keep lying to yourself if you want, but I think you know you could do better. You need to give Riley a chance. He's like a son to me, but Riley's hard to know, just like someone else, Oliver, if you get my meaning. You two becoming friends is a win, win since, I hear Felicity and Anna have hit it off famously."

"Yeah, they have." But he couldn't say the same about Riley and him, and he didn't see it happening. Not intending to discuss the topic with Mae, he stood and glanced down at the top piece of paper and read, "Go home and practice making babies with Felicity! Sleep! Dr's orders. Mae."

A flush crept over his face, and he schooled his expression to shut down the smile, refusing to give the older woman the satisfaction of knowing she'd amused and probably embarrassed him.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Riley? Oliver! Have you thought about going and seeing him? I swear sometimes talking to a rock would be easier."

"I've thought about Riley a lot." He tensed as he said the words still finding himself quietly wondering if the man could help him manage, could help him cope with the things that bothered him.

"And? But it doesn't sound like you're going to go see him. Oh, what am I going to do with you, Oliver?" She patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Keep after me?" His words were earnest and he meant them. "Mae you've been good to us. You saved Felicity's life and if I'd admit it, you saved me too. I want you to know I appreciate you."

"It's my job. And whatever your trying to do isn't going to make me forget that I want you to go and see Riley."

She put her hand up to stop his words but he went on.

"No, I mean what I said. It wasn't your job to come to the ER and help me the other day. And I'm grateful you did since I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up. And I've done some research on how high my blood pressure was and yes, I was lucky, very lucky indeed that you showed up. And Mae, I also want you to know I like coaching and you were right when you told Felicity that I need purpose because I do. And I just want to thank you and Warren for the opportunity. "

He'd meant his words for he'd been lucky he hadn't hurt someone in the ER. Real life was hard, and he'd found that coaching fulfilled him and put a sparkle in Felicity's eyes. Now that was a win, win situation in his mind. Almost smiling, he folded the papers before he stuffed them in his left back pocket.

Her cheeks reddened slightly as she pointed toward the door. "Oh, go on you, and I'll see you in the office on Monday. Call my receptionist for a time and bring your log. Now go and meet that new baby, and Oliver for once, try to follow my orders and get some sleep, for frankly, you look like hell."

Giving him shake of her head, she added the words, "Dr's orders."

This time his true grin escaped as Mae turned to walk away, throwing the words, "Maternity's on the fifth floor, I'll see you on Monday. And Oliver, please think about seeing Riley."

That was the last thing he wanted to do. Sighing, with a small shake of his head, he walked toward the elevator and punched the up button. The doors instantly whooshed open, and he inhaled sharply and crinkled his nose and frowned.

"Oliver," said Anna, "good to see you," as she reached out and held the elevator door for him, and Riley took a step backward, making room for him.

Only Felicity's pending wrath kept him from saying, "Never mind, I'll take the stairs or wait on the next elevator."

Instead, clamping his mouth shut, he schooled his expression as he forced himself to step onto the small space with the Clark's.

"Floor?" Anna asked softly.

"Fifth," and he noted the light on the fifth floor button was already lit.

"Guess were we're going the same place. The maternity ward. Oliver, what do you think about Tyler becoming a father today?"

Great, just great, now that was a loaded question if he'd ever heard one, he rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the elevator would hurry, and he could come up with a good answer.

"How's practice going?" Riley broke the silence, surprising him and saving him from answering Anna's question as Riley looked a little pale.

"It's going pretty well."

"So no more flats? Or attacks with metal?" The man was smirking now, and Oliver could almost swear Riley had just rescued him from answering Anna's question and was pleased with himself.

"Riley!" Anna said sharply cutting off his words. "Behave yourself. Oliver probably doesn't want to talk about that. Please excuse Riley, he's being bad today because I drug him here. And when he doesn't want to do something he acts out, like a child."

"Don't apologize for me, Anna, and you know you like it when I'm bad and act out."

Riley lifted an eyebrow at her, and smiled as she smirked back at him, with the words, "Not always and right now is one of those moments. You didn't have any appointments, I checked and there was no reason you couldn't come with me today and meet the new baby."

Yet, Oliver noted that Riley looked pained before he placed his hand on the small of her back.

"Just because I don't have patients doesn't mean I don't have paperwork to do. I told you that."

Yet, Anna didn't move away from his touch, but rather she leaned back into his hand. Somehow, that small gesture he'd just witnessed between them tightened his chest.

"Paperwork can wait. Tyler's one of my kids, and I want to go meet his and Mindy's new baby. And you're going to be there for support even if you don't like it."

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, and the doors whooshed open, and he rushed forward, finding that he couldn't step out fast enough, glad to no longer be trapped in a small space with Riley and Anna Clark and talk about babies that made his heart race.

He couldn't walk away from both of them quick enough. With swift steps, he stepped off the elevator and noted that several of his team were sitting in the full waiting room.

Swallowing deeply, he thought, okay, he could do this. Just a little more time and he could escape and get away from all this baby talk and go back to real life, a life that for right now didn't include babies. Thirty minutes, he assured himself, in and out in thirty minutes.

Yes, he could do this.

Yes, he WOULD DO THIS, and he stepped toward the waiting room and his team members and his life.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read! Hope to hear from some of you!

 


	33. Chapter 33

#####OQ####

And, just as he knew they would, Riley and Anna exited the elevator behind him. Scanning the waiting room, he noted Alonzo sat on his left beside David with his back bowed, his dark head hung low, his mind only on his phone and for an instant, Oliver hung back by the elevator and watched.

David sat slouched way down in his chair, his dark head thrown back, resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed, with a tiny dark headed boy plastered tightly against him. The young boy had his head burrowed deeply into David's broad chest as the small child tried to nap. He gauged the child to be around three even if he did have his two middle fingers stuck in his mouth, while his small left hand stroked David's right forearm, and the teen slowly patted the tiny child's back.

The scene tightened his gut and he exhaled sharply as he continued to survey the room.

On David's right sat three larger boys looking down at their phones. And from his recon work, he knew the two large identical twin boys were Alonzo's younger brothers and the smaller young thin boy belonged to David.

From the corner of his eye, he noted that both Adrian and Malone lounged, playing on their phones, sitting beside each other, in a far corner of the room, and the idea that they were friends with Tyler gave him pause for he hadn't known.

Three young girls, two blonde and one curly dark headed, lay on their stomachs on the floor, their heads propped up on their elbows, completely engrossed in someone's tablet. The smallest blonde child said loudly, "I want to pick, and I pick Dora."

"No, let's watch Scooby Doo," said the dark headed girl.

"I want to watch Sponge Bob or Teen Titians," said the other blonde.

"No, Sponge Bob!" David said sharply, without opening his eyes

And Oliver wondered why no Sponge Bob?

The disagreement on the floor got louder, and while he watched, David, who never opened his eyes, said quietly, "Emma, you chose the last cartoon. Give someone else a turn."

"But I want to watch Dora!" And the smallest blonde youth glared hard at David just before she sat up and crossed her arms in front of her chest and stuck out her bottom lip.

"And we don't always get what we want. Trust me, I know."

"But, I want to watch Dora." And Oliver thought there sat a tiny Thea intent on getting her own way.

"I know you do but if you give me grief, Emma, you'll be going to bed early with no screen time, now give your sister a turn."

"But?"

"But nothing. Better yet, Sofia picked the next cartoon. Put it on Scooby, Kayla."

"I'm starving," said the tiny blonde girl, clearly changing tactics. "And I'm thirsty too. Davey, can't we go home? I want to go home. Please!" And the tiny child batted her eyes at him, which David never saw since his eyes were closed.

Oliver realized he would have melted if that child had just done that to him.

But David only sighed deeply before he said a with a wave of his hand, "There's a water fountain right over there, ask Kyle to help you. And I know you're hungry. I am too, but remember we're going to get to see the new baby. Remember Tyler and Mindy's new baby? And your mom put something in the crockpot. So, don't worry, we'll eat just as soon as we get home."

"Silly Tyler's baby needs to hurry up." She stuck out her bottom lip. "Davey, can't you make them hurry up? I'm ready to go home."

"I know you are, Emma, and we'll go home soon. Here I have some gum." Without opening his eyes, he put his hand in his jacket pocket, and barely cracking his eyelids, he tossed the pack of gum toward her with the words said, "Good catch, Emma. You can hand the gum out. See if the boys want some too and share with your sister and Sofia."

To which Emma beamed, as she handed her sister a piece of gum then offered a piece to the other girl, who looked at Alonzo.

"Alonzo, can I have gum?" The dark headed girl asked, giving her brother a sweet grin.

"Sure, just means I won't have to feed you as soon. David, I'll take a piece if you have extra. And Sofia what do you say?"

"Thank you, David." The dark headed girl said never looking up from the tablet.

"Sure, Alonzo, get a piece, it's an eighteen pack. Emma, Kayla what do you say?"

"Thank you," they said in unison, as Emma got up and gave each of the teenage boys a piece of gum, as the boys mumbled their thanks, barely looking up from their phones, before the tiny girl tossed the gum back to Alonzo, who caught it with the words, "Nice toss, Em."

Alonzo took a piece of gum before he looked down at his phone and said, "Thanks, David. Hey, Nick just texted and said he's riding in to work with his mom to see the baby and should be here soon. He wants to know if can cop a ride home with you. And do you have your phone turned off? Nick say's you're not answering his texts."

"I don't have any minutes. Would you text him I'm sorry, but we're walking today. Dad's car's broke down in the yard again. Won't start."

"Well it least it's in the yard."

David patted the young boy's back solidly as he said, "Yeah could be worse. It could be sitting in impound because the cops towed it. Hey, ask Nick if he'll walk home with us and help me carry either Emma or Max. Kyle gets tired too quickly, and I end up carrying them both."

"Okay, here's your gum back."

Alonzo thumbs flew on his smart phone as the small child on David's lap picked his head up, pulled his fingers from his month with a pop and said earnestly, "GUM! I want gum, Davey!" As he grabbed the pack from David's hand.

"No, Max. you'll just swallow it." David snatched the pack back away from the child's chubby hands, while trying to pull the boy's head back down with his large hand.

"No, I won't swallow it, and I WANT UP." The child's face screwed up as he fought David's hand to sit up.

"Yes, you will."

"But I want gum."

"Here, Max, play on my phone. It's the ant game."

"I want to play on your phone," said Emma hopefully.

"Watch the tablet, it's Max's turn."

"But?"

"But nothing. Don't you dare whine, Emma. That's your warning. Pushing me is a bad idea today, I'm tired."

The teen's voice solid and strong made the child frown but she didn't whine, and David barely opened his eyes as he reached in his back pocket for his out of minutes smart phone. Quickly, he swiped his way to something that instantly entertained the young boy, while the small girl glared hard at them both, her bottom lip stuck out and quivering as she sat arms crossed in front of her chest.

But no, she didn't whine, and Oliver just looked on in amazement, while thinking that his own mother had never had this much control over Thea, ever.

And David clearly ignored her unhappy face as he closed his eyes again.

"You work the docks again this morning?" Alonzo asked, still into his phone.

"Yeah, and I've got to be there at four am tomorrow. I can get about three hours of shoveling fish before school."

"How much you got saved now?"

"Not very much, for sure not enough for a down payment on a car. And dad knows I've got some money saved." He sighed then said, "Honestly, I know my money's gone to help fix his car but we need a second ride. This walking's killing me."

"You're never going to own your own car if you keep giving your dad your money. Don't you pay for enough? I know you're paying your own car insurance already."

"Between aftercare payments, fines and probation fees I'm getting nowhere. I've even given up my phone right now."

"You're dad and stepmom need to grow up and help you more. They should be the ones paying for aftercare not you. They're not your kids, you know?"

"Yeah, right. Well someones got to take care of them. And, I got careless and got busted again which makes it my fault. Dad's got rent and the rest. At least he's working right now, and I get to drive when the car's running, and we don't have to walk all the time. We have to get the car up and running again."

"Well, then get the car fixed for you're starting to look like hell, David."

His tone resigned, Oliver watched David sigh deeply before he said, "Tell me something I don't know.

David's words and tone caused him to press to his lips together in a firm line, realizing he totally understood. Yes, he'd seen times in his life where he'd accepted his lack of control, and no matter how much he didn't want something to happen or how much he hated that moment in his life, he couldn't change or stop the future and unbidden, the H scar on his back started to throb.

Ignoring the scar, he pondered that he'd pegged David as nothing but a pot dealer, a repeat offender, a total screw up but he hadn't known the teen worked the docks in the wee morning hours before school. No, he hadn't known David worked hard labor in the cold three hours each morning before school even started.

Yes, he'd begun to understand why David got high in the evenings, for he's seen him standing on the porch smoking pot in the dark. And now he knew the kid smoked after an eighteen hour day, and now he knew why David slept through classes and had lousy coordination and why he  sucked at soccer for he was worn out.

Alright he'd known David cared for his siblings after school, but he hadn't known the youth would willingly give up his phone and his savings to fix his Dad's car, so he wouldn't have to continue to walk, carrying both his baby brother and his tiny step sister. Now, he realized David either walked or ran at least eight miles each day just to go to work, to school, to soccer practice, then  back to aftercare and then back home again. 

He frowned remembering where David lived, as he realized these kids would have to walk about four miles to get home, and he couldn't even offer them a ride since he rode a bike and the Porsche only seated two. David must truly like Tyler to even be here, for no public transportation existed in this town, and he and his siblings had walked a couple of miles from school just to be here right now.

Alonzo's phone dinged, and he checked it and said, "Nick said he'll help carry Max, since he's lighter. You know I'd help you but we're going the other way and we're walking too. Sorry."

"I know you would. Thanks, man."

His voice dropping, Alonzo said quietly, "No prob. Do you really think there's something home in the crockpot?"

David's smile barely broke his face. "I can hope. But I'll stop and get bread before we get home. I've got peanut butter and enough milk for the smaller ones. We'll get through. We always do."

Alonzo chose this moment to look up from his phone, clearing catching him eavesdropping, while his chest tightened wondering if these kids were going home to bread and peanut butter. Hmm, maybe he could do something about that. This town did have pizza delivery.

"Incoming. It's Coach," said Alonzo, smacking David on the leg in a clear warning.

Clearly busted, he moved, walking toward the young men and their families, their responsibilities.

Malone and Alonzo stood quickly as he entered the waiting room, and although Adrian stood, he came up unhurried to his feet, his chin stuck out. David stood last, rubbing his eyes roughly with one hand before putting the small boy deftly on his left hip, and Oliver wondered at how adapt the seventeen year old seemed at taking care of four children, while the thought that he probably had years of experience under his young belt, crossed his mind.

And, now that he looked closely, he clearly saw the clear total fatigue on David's face. The young man had more on his plate than he'd thought or even considered. Yeah, David, the pot dealer, stood before him doing his level best to take care of his stepsisters and brother while his dad and step-mom worked and left the responsibility on his thin shoulders.

"Coach, you're here," said Alonzo.

"Of course, I'm here. Tyler became a father today. He has a new son, and he's a member of my team, just like all of you are part of my team. So, I'm glad to see you here, Alonzo and David." He gave a wave as he said, "And Malone and Adrian, good to see you here too."

"Thanks, Coach," David looked downward as he hitched the boy up higher on his hip and slipped his phone back into his back pocket.

"David, introduce me to your family. Who is this young man you're holding."

"This is Maximillian, my baby brother, who didn't take his nap today and now won't let me put him down."

"Not a baby," the young child said, turning his head solidly into David's chest.

"Yes you are," Emma said knowingly.

"Emma don't say that, Max is a big boy." The teen said sharply but Oliver noted the child's middle fingers had returned to his tiny mouth.

"But we call him Max. Hi, my name's Emma and that's my sister Kayla." The small blonde had moved to stand bravely beside her step-brother and she stuck her small hand out pointing, "And that is my brother Kyle over there. He's a computer nerd."

David rolled his eyes and Kyle frowned, while he said, "The best kind of nerd, Kyle," as he held out his hand, thinking that yes, without a doubt, Emma made Thea look like an amateur, and for sure they were kindred souls, both masters at getting their own ways. 

And the child plainly forced him to smile.

Kyle stood and gave him a careful handshake then quickly stepped back, saying, "Nice to meet you." However, the boy'd lied for he barely concealed his total dislike, and he had a feeling the boy blamed him for David's hard life right now.

Emma cleared her throat and he turned and leaned down and took her tiny outstretched hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Emma."

Kayla had stood too but had stepped behind David, and after releasing Emma's hand he waved and said, "Hi, Kayla."

She peeked out behind David's leg but didn't speak.

"So, are you Davey's mean soccer coach?" Emma asked with a slight frown.

"Emma! Hush." David looked stricken. "Excuse her Coach, she's only six and doesn't understand."

"I do too understand. I heard you say."

"Emma!" The look David gave her said clearly for her to hush.

Oliver couldn't help it, he laughed and shook his head before saying, "David don't worry for Emma, you're right, I am the mean soccer coach. Now who are these other young men? Your brothers, Alonzo?"

David exhaled sharply and said, "phew," under his breath.

"Yes, Coach, these are my twin brother's Emmanuel and Lucas. Boys this is Coach Queen, my soccer coach."

Both boys stood and one stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Emmanuel," giving him a firm shake, clearly trying to prove his brute strength.

The other boy then stuck out his hand and said, "And I'm Lucas, nice to meet you Coach Queen."

"Nice to meet you too."

"And the dark headed girl is my sister Sofia."

The small girl jumped to her feet and moved toward him her hand held out, and he leaned down and took her hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Sofia."

"Grandma says we have to come and watch the games even if your team sucks at playing soccer, that we have to come out and sua. . . What's that word, Alonzo?"

"Sofia!" Alonzo and David both said sharply.

"Support?" Supplied Kayla peeking from behind David's legs.

Out of the mouths of babes, he thought. "Well, Sofia if they suck you'll just have to tell your brother and his friends that they need to practice more. Does Alonzo ever practice with his ball at home?"

Alonzo straightened and glared at his sister then exhaled through his nose as she said, "All the time. Grandma banned his soccer ball from the kitchen after he broke."

"Aren't you missing Scooby, Sofia?" Alonzo said, his strained voice, clearly interrupting her before she could finish her sentence.

Meanwhile, a click of heels caught his attention, and he knew the instant, Felicity rounded the corner with a small wave and a light filled smile. A smile that made his chest swell and put such a smile on his face that he couldn't hid it, not even in front of his team.

"Oliver, you have to come and meet the new baby. He's past cute." The look on her face pulled at his heart as she said, "Hello, boys, you need to come and see too. But first I want you to introduce me to these little people. Wow, are you kids adorable or what?"

"Please don't say that Ms. Felicity," said David, "Emma's bad enough now."

Quickly, David and Alonzo made the introductions this time as he stepped back and watched her animated face, while she shook hands with the small girls and charmed each of the young boys, including Malone, who seemed rather speechless, a feeling he totally understood. Adrian, however, refused her hand but she recovered the slight with the words, "Well come on everyone, let's go meet Tyler's and Mindy's baby. He's adorable."

And, he noted her face held a soft glow when she said the words, and he realized that yes, someday, maybe soon, Felicity would want a baby. Yes, someday soon he would find that he too would want to have a baby with her and his heart sped up as she grabbed his hand and began to pull him down the hall and like the pied piper a crew of children followed behind her.

"Felicity, give me a second." He pulled his hand out of hers. "Malone, Adrian could I talk to you a minute."

She searched his face then said, "Okay, room 5028."

He let the others walk down the hall then said, "Do you two want to do me a favor?"

Both youths stopped cold and looked at him wide eyed.

Malone swallowed hard then spoke first, "Yeah, Coach what can I do?"

"David and his family need a ride home. And so does Nick."

"I don't have a car seat and can only ride five."

"Now, you're straight and narrow? Malone, I've read your file, how many mailbox did you take out in one night? And then there was last week."

Malone looked down at his shoes and said, "My wrist still hurts."

"Good, I meant for it to. Now, I suggest you load everyone up and don't get stopped taking them home. Four miles is a long way to walk carrying a toddler. When was the last time you walked, Malone?"

"Okay, Coach," said Malone, "I'll do it."

"And me?" Asked Adrian.

"Alonzo and his family need a ride too."

"I'll ask him but, Coach," said Adrian, with a clear frown and a shake of his head, "Alonzo will probably turn me down. He doesn't like me very much."

"Well offer anyway. You might be surprised. And thanks you two. We need to be a team and help each other. Now let's go met Tyler's new baby."

####OQ#####

Stopping in front of the door, he gave a small knock and a tiny female voice said, "Come in."

Opening the door, his heart leapt into his throat, as he took in the sweet sight of dark headed, lanky Tyler, sitting in a chair beside the bed, with a very awed filled expression on his face, as he carefully cradled a tiny blanket wrapped bundle in his arms.

Anna and Felicity hovered nearby with bright smiles on their faces, while Riley stood in the background, looking stiff, rigid and plainly uncomfortable. Unable to help himself, he almost smiled as he noted Riley biting his bottom lip, while he intently watched Anna's bright face. Watching, he saw the man rub his palms down the front of his jeans, his blank face devote of emotion, before he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Yes, the man clearly seemed uneasy.

Looking up at him, Tyler said with a catch in his voice, "Coach, you came?"

"Of course, I came. I told you I wanted to meet your new son. And that's a nice looking boy you have there. Have you named him yet?"

He reached for his mask, as he struggled to get the cheerful words out, and he'd even remembered to add a smile at the end, even though that small bundle of new life and that glowing look on Felicity's face twisted his stomach into real, true knots.

What if Felicity honestly wanted a baby? What if he honestly wanted a baby? Could he handle a baby? Could he handle Felicity pregnant with his child? Could he handle Felicity growing large with HIS child?

David at seventeen clearly knew how to be a better father than him at thirty and that thought distressed him, troubled him greatly.

Tyler's girlfriend Mindy looked worn out, but she gave him a large knowing smile, and looked quite pleased with herself, as she sat up straighter in the bed, facing him.

"We're still working on his name, Coach," said Tyler, his affection for Mindy showing clearly in his voice as he said, "Mindy, this is my soccer coach, Oliver Queen, or Coach."

"Nice to finally meet you." She extended her small hand, and he carefully gave it a shake, as he found himself avoiding looking at their baby, the baby that Felicity and Anna were currently gushing over, and he forced himself to focus on Mindy's words, "And thanks for releasing Tyler from practice. Tyler's talked about you a lot."

"Has he? Well, releasing him wasn't a problem. This is a special event. He should have been here with you. And I wish you both congratulations on your new baby."

More people entered the room and he took a step back allowing another young girl to give Mindy a huge hug. Yes, the room had begun filling up. A lot of people were talking at once, too many people at once, as his chest tightened and he realized how much harder breathing had become.

"Can I hold him?" Anna's face clearly eager, he watched Riley stick his hands in his back pockets. And Oliver recognized the signs of distress, of the man's clear withdrawal, a favorite move of his, especially when he felt emotionally threatened, which seemed most of the time, a small voice said in his head, and he reached into his own pocket and touched her hairtie. 

Just fifteen more minutes, he assured himself, he could do this. This would be over soon.

Carefully, with the utmost care, Tyler handed the child over to Anna, and Felicity took a step forward and certain awed glow crossed her face, a look that pulled on his heartstrings and made it increasing harder to breath.

Felicity said, "I want to hold him next. Oliver, do you want a turn?"

An overpowering need to escape this room, to get away from the baby, to get away from that look on her face filled him, made his heart beat faster, and unable to stop himself, he took a step back.

And Riley must have been thinking along the same lines, for the man unexpectedly turned and said in a strained voice, "I'll be right back," before taking quick steps to cross the room, open the door, and flee the room.

For once he and Riley were on the same page.

"Yeah, I'll be right back too," he agreed, moving, escaping the room full of people. Swiftly, he walked down the hall, his eyes finding a restroom sign. Opening the door, he found the room thankfully empty, and he breathed out.

Walking to the sink, he gripped the countertop as he stared downward, looking at his shoes, not daring to look in the mirror. No, he didn't want to view his reflection, as he stood for an instant breathing in and out, trying to slow his racing heart.

Abruptly the door opened, and Riley Clark walked in and he pressed his lips together into a hard line, as he thought just like a bad penny that man always turned up.

Without a word or even a glance his way, Riley crossed the room, turned on the cold-water faucet, and began to splash water on his face. Watching him, he kept his thoughts to himself. After dousing his face several times, Riley held on to the sink, his head bowed, as he quietly snapped out the words, "Anna wants to have a baby soon. Does Felicity?"

If Riley would have sucker punched him, he'd have been less surprised.

"I can't say we've discussed it."

"Lucky you for once the baby door is open, you can't shut it. But after tonight, just wait you'll be discussing it. Women want babies."

Riley ran his hands through his hair and then scrubbed his face before saying, "First you feel like you need to marry her and then you buy a house and then . . ."

"And, then you find yourself breathing too shallow. Pay attention to your breathing, Riley, you're going to hyperventilate."

"I'm not either." Turning, he eyed him coldly, his face hard.

"Right. Riley, maybe you should turn the cold water on and put your hand in it. It'll help ground you."

"Oh, now, aren't you the comedian today, Oliver. And I can tell you're loving this." He placed his head in his hands for a moment then straightened and then turned the water on and stuck his hand under it, shutting his eyes before he said, "Just go away, Oliver. I don't want or need your advice. And I know how to have a panic attack all by by myself, and I'll survive this one, for trust me, I've got plenty of experience."

"Yeah, and what a better place to have one than a hospital?" His tone dry, he added, "Though trust me, unless you like having people touch you, the hospital's not the place to have one."

Riley rubbed water on his face with his hands again, then turned off the water with the words, "Unlike you, I got used to people touching me when I lost my legs, and I mean it, Oliver, unless you want to discuss babies, and the fact that Anna wants one, leave me alone."

Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Well I would but first I want to know what happened to the man that said he wanted to have children with Anna back in the restaurant. Let me guess I've caught the great Riley Clark lying?"

Looking down, Riley shook his head. "Okay, go on and gloat you ass. Guess you're happy you caught me? Alright, I admit I told a white lie to make Anna happy."

"But you still lied."

"Like you've never lied. You're the pot calling the kettle black here. How dare you judge me?" Riley's face reddened, while the scar on his cheek whitened. "You lie to your women, your lover about important things, like those teens attacking you with metal pipes."

"I told her."

"Only because I forced you too. Don't go there with me, Oliver. I don't have the patience or the time for it. I have enough problems right now, since Anna wants a baby, and I'm not ready."

"Anna's pushing you to have a baby?"

"Pushing? Hell no, she's using a bulldozer."

A slight smiled lurked below the surface, for maybe he found himself enjoying Riley's melt down. Yeah, maybe he liked watching Riley fall crashing off that pedestal everyone seemed intent on placing him on.

Okay, indeed yes, he liked, no truly enjoyed watching Riley's discomfort, enjoyed watching him fall from grace.

Unable to stop, he ribbed the man with the words, "Well, Riley, maybe it's time to have a baby. I have friends who have a baby. She's cute. Her name's Sara."

"Oh, yeah, that's truly helpful, tell me to have children. Well, that's easy for you to say when you and Felicity haven't even discussed children? When are you going to have the TALK?"

"Later."

"And why not now?"

"Because."

"You're such a jerk, Oliver. Don't act like it couldn't happen and don't try to tell me you're not having sex, because I won't believe you."

"I didn't say that."

"Good thing, since I've seen the way you look at her. And let me tell you, your look's intense. You want her and it shows."

"Well, our relationship's new yet."

Riley pulled himself up to sit on the sink's countertop, and Oliver saw him, reach and rub just below his knee and knew the man's leg pained him. And he almost felt sorry for him then Riley ruined the moment by saying, "And there's your damn dependable PTSD showing. Once again, you've giving me single word answers, with no explanations. And you're lying to me. Do you know that you excel at lying? Anna told me you've known Felicity for four years. Count them FOUR."

The man held up his hand to show one, two, three, then four fingers then returned to rubbing his leg with the words, "Damn your PTSD. It's better to let them draw their own conclusions. Keep quiet and don't help them. Well, you just wait until Felicity gives you that we're both getting older and it's time to have children discussion."

He refused to answer him, knowing Riley'd busted him out, had caught him lying about how long he'd known Felicity, and yes, he's know her for a long time, wanted her forever and had denied himself, punished himself for even wanting, for even thinking about reach for her. Yet, in truth, their relationship still felt new to him.

But, still he listened, for he couldn't help himself, as Riley rubbed that knee and said, "Yeah, just wait until you find yourself where I am, where Felicity's ready, past ready to get on with her life and is pushing you for a child, and you're like me, just not ready to be a father. Hell, I can barely handle myself, what would I do with a kid? And I looked at that young girl and that scared young boy and seriously what are they going to do with a baby? Play house?"

Rolling his neck, he paused, pressed his lips together for a second before he answered, "Isn't that we're doing, Riley? Only their baby's here and I guess they're just going to have strap in and ride the ride. I'll admit I don't have the answers but at least Tyler seems to love Mindy. That's something."

"Love doesn't fix everything." Riley's words were bitter.

Narrowing his eyes, his chest constricted as his jaw tightened. The emotion love had become genuinely important to him and her love meant everything to him, more than he would ever be able to put into words and his tone came out sharp. "Don't you dare belittle love, Riley. I've known both sides of the street and love trumps hate every single time. And it's darn sure somewhere to start. I'll admit I need Felicity's love. Where would I be without it? I'd be alone. What about you and Anna? Do you want to be alone?"

Riley went quiet for an instant, then said, "No and I agree both of us have been alone. And it's not a good place to live. But it love doesn't make me ready to be a father."

He met Riley's eyes before he said, "No it doesn't, but I'm glad those two young kids want to try to raise this baby. They could have given the baby up for adoption but they didn't, not that adoption is a bad idea either since they are young."

"No, they're choosing to tough it out, at least for now. But what about later, what happens when the new's wore off, when the baby's screaming at night, when the money's short and all they do is fight? What about then?" Riley jumped down from the countertop, staring him down.

"I don't know. I do know it's going to be tough for them to make it work but life's hard sometimes."

"No kidding, Oliver. Real words of wisdom there. Glad you have their relationship figured out."

"Yeah, tell me about it DOC, since it sounds like you don't have your own relationship figured out. And I'm supposed to come and see you to get better?"

"You could get better. It might happen if you'd try."

His hands became fists before he added, "Did you know that Mae and Felicity are shoving you down my throat like you're the Messiah? But I'm thinking I'm seeing the real you right now, and you need to back off and give me a break."

Riley slammed his hand on the counter before he said, "A break? You have to do some work before you get a break. And I haven't even started pushing you, if anything I've backed off but then you're always working an angle aren't you, Oliver? Always looking for a way out." Leaning back against the counter, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're standing there with both your legs and you still can't stand up can you?"

"I am standing up. Maybe it's you that isn't."

He'd moved closer to the man and Riley leaned in, his words harsh,"Quit LYING, to yourself, Oliver for NO you're not. Okay, I get that you don't want to come and see me, that it's easier to keep doing what you're doing and not work to get better but stop using my problems as a way out. My current problems have nothing to do with what I do during my office hours. I'm a professional. This is my PTSD I'm fighting here, my insecurities, not yours. I'm not talking about your insecurities in your relationship. We can talk about those later."

"Not happening and yeah, I see you're struggling here." But he couldn't keep the smirk off his face, and he didn't even feel bad for it.

"You could at least try to hide how much you're enjoying my discomfort. I know you have insecurities too. Don't act like you don't. Tell me you don't struggle with your own relationship, and I'll call you a liar to your face. Felicity's coming to see me now and you need to remember that." Riley raised one eyebrow at him.

You smug asshole, entered his mind, as he narrowed his eyes. "What happened to client doctor confidentiality?"

"Nothing. Did I hear guilt?" He cupped his hand beside his ear.

Oliver ached to punch him, hard, his back straightening, his belly knotting. His words were low and hard. "You're crossing a line, Riley. I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"No, I'm not. You know she's seeing me, and you know Felicity wants you to come and see me too. She needs you to get better so your relationship can move forward and then she can push you to have babies too."

"Leave it alone, Riley. I'm done with this conversation. I can't do this right now." His hand reached in his pocket, once again hunting her hairtie, needing to touch it. And his chest had begun to tighten again, and the need to get out of this hospital, to get out of this conversation before he did something he might regret, like knock Riley down, filled him.

"No way am I backing off. Anna likes Felicity and yes, you can do this. I can't is nothing but an excuse, and as normal we're right back to our pissing contest."

"You started it this time."

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Riley sighed deeply and turned his back to him, turning the water back on. "Maybe, but I'm not up for your stupid game today. Alright, I get that you don't like me, that I rub you the wrong way, well guess what Oliver I don't like you either, but I'm stuck with you. Anna likes Felicity and they're friends, which means we're stuck with each other."

He answered him with silence and a frown and Riley went on, "As normal I get a no answer from you. Okay, whatever, but you just wait until Felicity starts talking about babies and how we can rip out your office and turn it into a nursery in no time, and let's not forget about names and diapers, clothe or disposable? Now that's a discussion that will scare the hell out of you."

"She wants to rip out your office?" And he smiled at that thought.

"Yeah." Riley looked into the mirror, monetary bit his lip before going on to say. "And now Anna wants to talk about breast feeding and natural childbirth, and how I'm going to be there for the delivery."

"Delivery?"

"Yeah, she tells me that if I put it in, then I can be there when it comes out."

Oliver gave a small snort.

Riley turned and pointed before he said, "Don't you dare laugh, for right now she's in there holding a baby."

"Delivery really?" And he remembered Diggle'd been there during Sara's delivery, and the man still wouldn't talk about the details.

Not that he'd wanted details. The words too much information crossed his mind.

He shook his head before he said, "You're right, Riley, you're totally screwed."

"Like you're not? Felicity's got that baby look too. I saw it. Won't be long and you'll be singing a different tune, one where a tiny person is calling you Daddy."

His breath quickened and he removed his hand from his pocket and waved a finger with the words, "She's not ready. I'm not ready." He held both hands up palms out. "You can just hold off there. We aren't ready for a child. Felicity understands that. I know her."

Pushing back those thoughts yet again, he refused to think about becoming a father, even if it warmed him to think about her being large with his child. Yes, just thinking about her having his baby did something to him deep inside, and he shut those thoughts off cold.

"You think you know her. Well you just wait. And we both know that as men we're fooling ourselves thinking we have our women figured out. What a crock. Let tell you that we don't have them figured out at all. Hell, I don't have Anna figured out most days, and I've got a couple degrees in psychology."

The look that Riley gave him made his bite his lip to suppress his laugh, for the look on the man's face held pure panic. And he found himself almost feeling sorry for the man. "Well, Felicity hasn't said a word about babies."

Riley gave him a small grin before he said, "Just wait, she will. It seems to be part of a woman's makeup. They want babies. They need babies. Guys, we want sex," he gave him a knowing grin, before he said, "lots of sex, but women they want babies. And since we want sex, we give them babies."

Yes, he wanted sex, not more responsibilities, yes, lots of sex. "You right about the sex part. But, truthfully, I don't think I can handle a baby right now."

"Exactly." Riley said grinned back. "But back to Tyler and Mindy, they don't have a choice anymore. Now you know we both have to go back to that room and be supportive."

"Yeah." He bit his bottom lip.

"And Oliver, I still want you to come and see me. You need to get a handle on your PTSD."

"What like you?"

"Yeah, like me." And he laughed out loud and Riley held out his hand.

Oliver hesitated then took Riley's and gave it a shake, a strong shake with the words, "Want to arm wrestle and get it over with?"

"Why I'd win. Remember no legs?" Riley tightened his grasp, testing him, pulling strong against him as he pulled back and he had to admit to himself that Riley's arm just might be a little stronger than his as each of them pulled against the other, with neither giving an inch.

Riley said sharply pulling against him, "From the looks of it, it'd be close. Do you want to beat each other up or do we just go back to the room and be supportive?"

"I guess I choose supportive, though I still think I can take you. I'll let go if you do. On three?"

Riley nodded, and said, "One."

"Two," said Oliver.

"You are past competitive. Anyone ever tell you that?" And Riley pulled back against his hand.

"More than once and three."

Riley nodded then released his hand with the words, "Felicity's going to want a baby, you mark my words. Babies are like a damn virus. Babies spread."

And Oliver answered him with silence.

####OQ####

Later after he and Riley had returned to the room, he'd done his level best to pay attention to the new baby, to Mindy and to Tyler. But, he'd declined holding the baby. Slowly the rest of his team had left with their siblings. And his mind revisited an exhausted David and red haired, Nick carrying tiny Max and Emma home and he'd been glad to see David hesitate but then accept Malone's offer of a ride after his sister Kayla had looked up at him and said, "Yes, please David, can we ride home with him?"

He had a feeling Kayla knew walking home was a long way on her short legs, and he found himself hoping her mom had truly bothered to leave them dinner in the crockpot. Surprisingly, Alonzo had also accepted a ride from a shocked Adrian. Now, looking at his phone, he realized he'd stayed way past the thirty minutes he'd promised himself but he knew he still needed to talk to Tyler.

"Hey, Tyler, can I have a word with you in private." He nodded his head toward the door.

Tyler grayed a bit but rose and followed him out the room.

Walking down the hall, his hands in his pockets, he touched her hair tie and tried to gather his thoughts, as a small waiting room came into view. An outside garden lay right outside the waiting room, and he pushed the door open and entered the garden. Walking over to the tall ledge, he surveyed the city's grave yard and an employee parking lot five stories below him.

Tyler crossed his arm in front of him, clearly hugging himself and nervous.

Unsure what to say, he gathered his wits, his thoughts. Finally he sighed then said, "Tyler, you're a father now. Mindy and that baby boy are depending on you. I know this is hard on you. How are you holding up?"

The young boy breathed out slowly before he said quietly, "You want the truth?"

"Yeah, why not? The truth's a good place to start." Though he couldn't stop his sharp exhale as his chest tightened, knowing the truth and he didn't always reside in the same place.

"Coach, I'm terrified. My dad blew us off years ago. I've never had a dad. I don't know what to do, how to act. And, have you noticed my mom not even here. She's not thrilled about the baby and truthfully Mom's not good at being. . ."

The young man stopped talking. His words hung in the air and Oliver added, "at being a mom, maybe?"

"Yeah, that's a good way to put it. Most of my life, Mom mainly left me alone and let me figure it out for myself, and I have trouble with my temper. I got into one too many fights at school and that got us into the court system and now we can't seem to get out. Once they get their hooks in you it seems like you just can't get out." The words poured out of the young man's mouth like water, "I know I'm on probation and I deserve it, and I know I have to play soccer, but Mindy doesn't like my mom, which means that no way will she ever move in with me."

"Tyler, Felicity didn't like my mom either. Not even a little but that doesn't stop me from loving Felicity."

"Really? Truthfully?" The teen's brown eyes met his. "But what am I going to do? I don't know what to do with a baby. I mean they're going to send Mindy home in the morning and what happens next. I don't know what to do."

"I know you don't but what you have to do is love that baby and you go on. All right, Mindy's not going to live with you. Well then you don't live together for now but you still do your job."

"My job?"

"Yeah, your job is to help Mindy with the baby and that means everything from bottles to diapers, to babysitting. This is your son and he needs you, needs to see you. He's your responsibility."

"Babysitting? I don't know if I can do that."

"Sure you can. You created him. You need to help out. Hey, I've a friend with a baby and he calls it doing Daddy duty."

Tyler grinned just a little.

"And Tyler your job's to finish high school, and to apply for college and to go to college."

The youth hung his head, before he said, "College isn't going to happen now. My life's over. I had a scholarship to go to Dallas. But now. . .now I'm done. It's over . . .It's . . ."

He left the sentence hanging.

"No, your life's not over, it's just changed. Now you start community college next fall, and you keep working your part time job and you buy diapers and you come to soccer practice and you finish your probation. But above all you don't get Mindy pregnant again for a long while. You protect her and your son."

"Okay, Coach." Tyler replied reddening.

"Tyler, I mean it. You use protection. I know you want her body but you have to protect her, keep her safe. She's your baby's mother, your son's mother. Get her on the depo as soon as possible. And NO sex until you're sure it's safe. You have to be the strong one and say no."

"I don't know if I can." Tyler looked down into the parking lot.

"Yes, you can. You will care of her and your baby. Be a man. I have faith in you, and I know you're trying, Tyler, I know you will do this." He held out his hand with the words, "Remember if you need to talk to someone, I'm here. I'm your coach now, and I'm willing to listen. And I truly believe you can and will do this. You can be a good dad. You can finish school. Make your son proud. Remember he's your son. You created him and he and Mindy need you. And you can do this. Just do your jobs. I know it's hard but do your jobs."

Tyler looked long and hard at him before he held out his slim hand and said, "Thanks, Coach. I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

And the youth shook his hand hard then the two of them walked in silence back to Mindy's room.

####OQ####

Thanks for the read. Drop me a note! I totally look forward to hearing from you. And I seem to write totally for kudo's! Thanks for the feedback my readers. 


	34. Chapter 34

I am once again placing a graphic warning. Oliver is dreaming again.

I thank everyone that reviews! I love hearing from my amazing readers.

And I want to tell all my readers that I currently have a short story that I have posted about Oliver and Felicity's current break up called Felicity's Fury and Oliver's Green Notebook. I invite all my readers to check it out and let me know what you think. It will be short and sweet and over in no time.

Now get ready here comes the baby talk.

####OQ####

Finally, he'd pulled himself and Felicity away, and the time had truly flown, as they headed toward the parking lot. It had been at least an hour and half since he'd promised himself he would be out of here in thirty minutes, and he knew he needed to eat and wondered what he had in the freezer. He doubled the batch on some meals when he cooked, and they used the microwave to reheat. And it looked like tonight would be one of those nights they would be reheating. Again, his mind wondered back to David and his siblings, and he wondered if they'd eaten the pizza.

"You ordered pizza for David's family, right?"

"Of course, a while back. I'm sure they've devoured it by now. And since when did you start feeding the masses?"

Reaching, he grabbed her hand, as he pulled her into the elevator, but he waited for the elevator's doors to shut before saying, "They were going home to peanut butter and bread for dinner, with enough milk only for the three smallest ones. It would seem David's parents aren't good at feeding them."

"Well, that would suck. I'm glad you sent them pizza. How can you not feed your kids? And there are five of them? Isn't there some kind of help with that? A program that feeds them?"

"I don't know their situation, but I'm sure their parents want to feed them. Maybe the money's tight? Regardless, I'm making sure they aren't hungry tonight."

"I'm glad, but maybe his parents don't always know how to manage their money and kids are expensive. Speaking of kids." An animated, bright eyed, Felicity beamed up at him, warmed him with her smile, as she talked with her hands, and he loved her light filled smile, but then she said, "Oliver, did you see how cute Mindy and Tyler baby was? I couldn't believe how soft his skin felt, and he smelled amazing. You truly should have held him."

"I'd rather hold you."

Again, he pushed guilt down. But unable to help himself, he pulled her to him and his mouth found the pulse on her neck, ignoring the fact that he intended to distract her.

"Don't do that, stop, remember I work here now."

But, instead of pushing him away, she turned her neck into his mouth, and he savored her, tasted her skin and gave her an almost hickey, as he sucked and then bit before the bell dinged and the door opened, and he forced himself away from her, breathing hard into her sweet neck.

"Come on I WANT you. I'll meet you in forty at home," he whispered, clasping her hand and then he pulled her toward the parking lot.

"Forty? Why so long?" She whined and her words lit a fire in his stomach.

Finding their car, he couldn't stop himself, he trapped her body hard against the car's door, as he pulled her body close and kissed her hard, really kissed her, putting his tongue in her mouth and tasting her, deeply. And everything disappeared but her.

Careless and knowing it he let his guard down. No, he found he didn't care who saw them, since they seemed completely safe here, intoxicatingly safe here, and he just couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself, as he allowed himself to forget anything but the way she tasted as he gave a quick look around to find an empty parking lot before he attacked her mouth again.

Oh, how she pressed her awesome willing body against him, and how he welcomed the rushing sensations, as his hands pulled her closer, as her willing hands pulled him closer to her, knowing they were safe, that he could love her openly, safely.

His breath came in hard gasps, wanting her, yes, needing her, and hating that he had to stop. However, he savored that he could kiss her like this and could forget to be careful. Yes, he treasure that luxury. The feeling, that freedom, totally intoxicated him.

"Heavens, but you make me want you." Her words breathless, she enticed him as her hand moved to cup him, moved to touch him. He jumped back as he forced himself to pull his lips from her lips. Yet, he thrust a little into her core before pulling her toward him, keeping her cradled in his arms.

He whispered, "Yes, me too, but we have to stop. You," he touched his finger to her nose giving it a small tap, before he said, "have to drive the car home, and I have to drive the bike home."

Yet, his mouth found the nape of her neck and savored her for an instant more. Slowly he lifted his head and breathed out, his words strained as he said with a groan, "And I have stop by the gym and change the team's laundry out to the dryer, and pick up a new prescription on the way home."

"Oh frack, did Mae up the dose again?"

Her face reflected her disappointment and his heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah," but he kissed her forehead and for an instant, she leaned into him, making his throat tighten, along with his jeans.

But then she pushed him away, with the words, "Oliver, don't tease me. How can you do that to me? You make me want you, ache for you, and then you tell me I can't have you."

"No, it's okay We can. In fact, Mae even ordered more sex with the higher dose."

"You told didn't you?"

She hit his chest with the back of her hand.

"Why would you do that? Now, I'm definitely embarrassed. How could you do that to me? Now every time I see Mae, I'm going to think that she knows that you and me, that we, you know . . ." She reddened slightly before she buried her face in his chest and said, "That we, you know, do it."

He snorted sharply, unable to help himself, before he grinned down at her. His hands smoothed her back. "Calm down, Felicity. Of course, Mae knows we have sex. Look, she called me on it, and I told the truth."

"Well that'd be a first." Her hand had found her way under his shirt, found his bare scarred skin and his breath quickened as she rubbed and smoothed.

"Not funny, Felicity. And this isn't a big deal."

"Yes it is."

He frowned down at her with the words, "Felicity, clearly, Mae knows we're having sex."

"Well I'd like to think that she didn't know that about me, about us. It's like thinking that my mother knows."

He grinned, then teased, his hands smoothing her skin. "Mae clearly knows we DO IT. And your mother does too. And Mae bragged that Warren and she had lots of sex, even joked that we need to practice." He leaned solidly into her core, pressing himself hard against her, grounded himself against her, while he ignored the guilt that he hadn't finished the sentence, but no way would he encourage the baby conversation. Riley might be right about not opening that door.

"Really?"

Oh, and her hot hands touched his back.

"Truly." His hand stroked, finding skin as he returned the favor.

"Oh, yes, I'd like truly like to practice with you."

She pulled him closer, and her hands moved to his waistline and he inhaled sharply as he loved her light filled smile, but then she ask, "By the way, Oliver, didn't you think Tyler and Mindy looked darling together? And I still think you should have held the baby."

And he suppressed his groan before he promised, "Next time, Felicity."

She pressed her body solidly against him before she added, "Yes, let's go home and practice. I want to practice with you, need to practice with you. Oh, yes, how I want to practice with you." And her hands moved down and squeezed his ass.

Her teeth found his ear lobe and nipped hard, bit him hard, before she whispered, "And I've wanted to practice ever since Mindy called you a hard ass."

"I am a hard ass, you know." He could barely breathe.

Her hands roamed further down his ass as she agreed, "Yeah, and I totally love your hard ass. Oh, how, I love your hard ass."

Reaching, she pulled him solidly toward her, making him swell, making him truly want, then she gave his ass a hard squeeze before saying, "and all I've been thinking about is how hard your ass is."

"You're killing me. You know that though don't you?"

She giggled and he leaned his head into her neck, sucking hard before lifting his head with the words, "Come on let's go home. I'll run back to town later."

He stuck his nose into her hair and inhaled sharply, as he breathed her scent in, and she pulled him tighter to her body, thrusting, as she asserted, "No, I'll pick up your prescription, while you change out the team's laundry, and I'll meet you at home in twenty minutes, tops. Please, hurry, Oliver. You're killing me. I'm past wanting you. And then you won't have to leave later."

Again she touched him with her hot hands, as she reached and gave his ass a sweet squeeze, causing him to fight his total hard on, his complete throbbing hard on. Gasping, he found that he'd lost the good fight, as his dick twitched and grew, and he pressed himself into her sweet core.

Oh, how he loved her small hot hands, as she placed her sweet hands into his back pockets, pulling him sharply toward her core and pressing hard and grinding just a little.

"You're good that this, at torturing me." He totally had a problem breathing as he pressed his nose into her throat and inhaled the scent that belonged only to her.

"You too," she said, with a catch in her voice. "Hey, what's this?"

But then he realized that she'd just pulled two pieces of paper from his back pocket.

Crap!

Pushing away from her, he reached saying, "Felicity, don't?"

"Why? What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, they're just my prescriptions. Wait. Don't."

His heart rate sped up while his hand tried to snatch the two papers away from her, but she'd quickly jerked her hand back, and took a step backward, and her solid look froze him in his tracks.

Slowly, she took another step away from him, as she unfolded the two small pieces of folded paper, as she collided with the car's fender. Watching she shook his prescriptions at him, while she tilted her head and gasped as she read Mae's words.

Her wild eyes flew up to his and he told her, "Felicity, it means nothing. Mae's joking."

Looking hard at him, she stressed, "I'm calling bull here, Oliver. Practicing making babies is a far from a joke. This is a 'we need to talk moment.'" She made air quotes with her fingers and looked him hard in the eyes.

"What if I don't want to talk?" He smiled at her.

"Don't you dare smile at me, try to play me, when I'm holding a piece of paper that says, 'Go home and practice making babies with Felicity. Dr's orders. Mae'"

Her eyes wide, he watched her bite her bottom lip, and he breathed out through his nose as he fought the urge to kiss her into oblivion, to make her forget.

"Alright, I'll talk. Felicity, Mae's making a joke. She wrote me a prescription for sex."

"Well, it's not funny." Her face whitened even more. "Oliver, I'm not ready for a baby. Are you ready? Truly, Oliver? Is Mae serious? "

"Knowing Mae, I'd say yes."

"Oliver, what in the world have you been telling Mae?"

Her eyes found his but he broke eye contact.

"Do you want a baby? I can't believe you're ready for a baby. That's past scary. Oliver Queen, playboy wants a baby. The Arrow wants to be a father. Call the news crews. Oh, frack did I say that out loud?"

Swallowing hard, he grinned. "Felicity, let me explain. Mae knew Tyler and Mindy had a baby tonight. She's the one pushing and talking about how she will never be a grandmother, how she wants to be our godmother."

He found he couldn't look her in the face. Looking up, he caught her wide eyes, and he stopped himself for an instant, then ask softly, "Okay, what do you think about kids? Maybe someday? I know not now but someday?"

Smiling slightly, she reached out and carefully smoothed his face, ran her fingers lightly down his face, then returned to touch his cheek with the words, "I think they're awesome as long as they belong to someone else. No one raised me, Oliver. My mother tried but she never knew what she was doing and my father, well, he left. Frankly, Oliver, I don't know how to do kids."

Grinning he said, "And umpteen nannies raised me, which means I don't know how to do kids either." Softly, his hand reached and touched her hand on his face, linked his fingers with hers then pulled her toward him trapping her hand against his face and savoring her touch as she wrapped her other arm around his waist and pulled him close as he leaned toward her.

"But someday right?" He found his tone hopeful.

She leaned into him before saying, "Yeah, someday when you and I are better. Someday when you're managing your PTSD, which you aren't right now, let me point out. Then, I would love to have your baby, but I don't think now is the time."

"Okay. I'll work on that," and his lips slowly found hers and she kissed him back slowly, lovely and he absorbed it as he released her hand to pull her toward him and she wrapped her arms around his neck and for a blissful instant only she existed.

Pulling his mouth away, his words softened, and his eyes found hers. "I love you Felicity and someday when we're ready, when I'm ready, I'm going to have a baby with you, a beautiful baby. Okay?"

She caught his eyes. "Yeah, okay, and I'll remember that Mae wrote you this prescription. And Oliver, I know we would make awesome kids together." Then she laughed and he smiled, pulling her close.

####OQ#####

Hours later, after making love and food and more awesome sex, she had rolled from the bed. "I think I'm up for a movie. What about you?"

He wanted to say no but she looked insanely happy about the idea, and he just grinned and agreed. Mere minutes later, she came out the tiny kitchen, holding a white bag. "I've got the popcorn. Did you take your pills? It takes three now you know?"

She smiled up at him as she headed into the living room. Playing with her tablet she did her magic and the movie Die Hard came on the screen.

"I can add to fifteen mg, Felicity."

Looking over her glasses, she frowned hard at him.

"Okay, I'm going."

Grabbing the pill bottle from the table, he counted out three pills and swallowed them with a drink of water from the tap then returned to the living room with the words, "There are you happy?"

"Don't be a grouch, Oliver. I was just asking."

"And I took them already."

"Moving forward with that cheerful note. Come on, you'll like this one." She patted the couch beside her. "This is a great guy's movie if I've ever seen one."

"If you say so." He just didn't really like TV but since she did and he wanted to please her, he sat down and tried to get into the plot of a funny cop heading to visit his wife.

"Wow you could have a gun on a plane then," he pointed out.

"It was the 80's. Look they still smoked inside then."

"Yeah, your hero just lit up in the airport too."

"At least try to like it, Oliver."

"I thought I was trying?"

The movie played on and he kind of paid attention but with the new dose he rather napped too, when the classical music Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, the 1st movement swelled in the background music as the cop got off the elevator.

Trying to relax, with her curled tightly up beside his side, his head had started to hurt, and he winced and felt his chest tighten as the cop ran barefooted on the screen with the bad guys shooting the glass out of the room.

"Okay, I don't like the blood part." She turned her face into his chest as the John MacClain pulled a hunk of glass from his foot.

"Well, I don't like the shoe-less part."

"The island?"

"Among other places. Needless to say, I prefer boots to bare feet any day."

She reached and took his hand, rubbing her thumb in his palm. "So, you're saying you wouldn't ever taken your shoes off."

"No, Never."

The movie played on but his chest kept tightening and against his will, his eyes closed and reality went away.

#####OQ#####

"Step away from the door, Oliver."

"Give me a second."

Quickly, he grabbed the board he'd rested on the top rungs of the two chairs, and he slung it against the wall as he shoved one of the chairs back.

The metal door swung open, with a crash, and Luke lit the taser before he even entered the room. Too late to move the other chair, he stood behind it holding on to the back, while his mind thought about smashing it and using it as a weapon, thought about fighting his way out of this situation. Though, he knew defeating these men would only be the start.

Tightly he clutched the chair, knowing if he tried them then he would still have to get out of the building, have to get out of the compound, get past the dogs, and get past the men on the walls with the automatic weapons. And he would have to achieve all this and then get out of the area without anyone sighting him, and in a t-shirt and barefooted, with snow on the ground, and he knew from personal experience the locals would turn him in for the reward in a heartbeat.

Sighing deeply, he knew he couldn't escape this time.

"Step away from the chair, Oliver, and hit your knees."

His heart sped up, even as his stomach fell, as Ivan came in the door, a wicked grin on his face, raddling the chains in his hands.

Three more men walk in behind Ivan armed with tasers too. It would seem they Ivan would be taking no chances here.

"Guess we're going somewhere? Hope you've warmed up the panel truck. I get cold easy you know?" But inside his heart pumped wildly and his stomach plummeted.

"Always the smart ass, huh? Knees, down on your knees, Oliver. I mean now and hands behind you head, fingers laced."

He hesitated as he considered his chances once more.

Luke lit the taser again and warned, "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Oliver."

Knowing, he had no choice, he fell slowly to his knees. His heart racing, he tried to shut down his emotions, as he reached for the darkness, reached for the place he went at time like these, when he had no control and the unknown choked him, closed his throat up and made it hard for him to breath.

"You know the drill. Feet together."

Ivan kicked his legs closer together and he inhaled sharply.

"I'll walk if you'll let me. It would be easier than dragging me. I'm heavy you know."

Already the helplessness of being chained struck him and even though the cold assaulted him, a tiny beat of sweat popped out on his forehead and rolled down his temple.

"You know I can't do that. No, you're too good with your feet and legs."

And Ivan slowly clamped the shackles on his left ankle, then his right, as the other four of them stood ready to taser him if he even breathed wrong.

"Do I have a fight?"

Please, let it be a fight, he thought, refusing to consider the other alternative. Forcing himself, he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as the Ivan encircled his left wrist with the first handcuff.

"First hand."

Ivan slowly lowered his hand to the middle of his back.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to allow this to happen again, to not fight back, to not take the chance and at least try to kill Ivan before they tasered him. His chest began to heave, and he forced himself to hold back, to not try to escape.

Both of his hands fisted tightly.

Luke lit his taser, no doubt noting his rising distress.

"Easy, Oliver, you don't want to make this hurt more than it has too."

And the other three men also lit their tasers, and he tensed as the air in the room became harder and harder to breath.

"Other hand," Ivan demanded.

And he couldn't stop himself from resisting just a little, from pulling back against Ivan's hand a tiny bit, before he submitted and allowed Ivan to pull his hand down and snap the cuff tightly on his wrist.

"I'm going to kill all of you."

The words slipped out, bitter and dark, his face hard.

Ivan pulled the chain that linked his ankles and hands together tightly, effectively limiting his range of motion, as he whispered in his ear, "And I'm going to personally bury you in a shallow grave. Just as soon as he bleeds you out. And then I'll find him another toy. It won't be long now."

The man shoved him forward, Ivan's push intending to make him land on his face. Hogtied he couldn't put his hands out to stop himself, but he managed to flip and land on his side, no doubt bruising his hip and shoulder.

Two of the men grabbed his arms, linking their arms through his restrained arms, and they drug him on his knees across the room and out the door and out into the dim, cold, moldy smelling hallway.

The coward in him wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to hide, but knowledge is power, and he needed to see where they drug him to this time.

When they reached the end of hall, he hoped to turn left. Yes, he found himself hoping they would exit the building. The last place he wanted to go was into right toward that room, the room that would bring only pain, overwhelming pain.

But they didn't exit the building.

Heaven help him, they didn't exit the building. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest.

No, instead they pulled him straight toward that ROOM. The room that Hedeon had someone construct just for him, had someone tailor the chains especially for him. Yes, they drug him into the room with the chains that hung from the ceiling, with hooks on the floor to restrain his feet and hands so he couldn't end his own life. Yes, they drug him to the chains that forced him to stay put, to live, locking him down while the chains restrained the animal in him that wanted to rip Hedeon's throat out, that wanted to snap his neck and would if given any kind of a chance.

But the men with tasers gave him no chance at all.

Yes, the beast in him wanted to fight them, needed to escape them, as his arms bulged as he tested the unforgiving chains again and again as they drug him across the dirty floor and through the doorway of that room.

And, he could already smell the old blood that had seeped and stained the stone floor.

The island had shown him what helpless felt like. And he'd thought he'd known helplessness, but right now he understood what it meant to truly be abandoned, to be totally venerable, and he reached for the ice within him as he trying to numb himself, as he trying to cripple the person inside of him, as he tried to go away to that closed off place in his mind. If he survived this, he wouldn't forget what it felt like to be helpless, and he would make a difference. Yes, he would help the helpless. He could make a difference.

The closer the men drug him toward the chains, the more his breathing became restricted and his chest ached. Yes, no one would understand how being totally unable to stop what happened to him, scarred him and ripped him up inside. His throat tightened, and he forced the bile back down.

Helpless, knowing what the future held, he found it harder and harder to breath.

Heart pumping wildly, he forced himself not to struggle, not to fight them, as they drug him toward the suspended chains. He wanted to whine, to plead, or to beg, but he didn't for this he could control. Yes, he could refuse to give them the satisfaction of making him beg.

Teeth gritted, he forced himself to put his head up, to face this without a whimper.

Yet, as Ivan locked his shackles to the floor, the grating sound made him cringe.

"First arm, Oliver. I'm going to unlock you."

And all four of them moved toward him with their tasers lit. They knew if he would try to escape it would be now.

And he'd fought them before, had hurt several of them.

Ivan stretched his left arm out and hooked it to the chain hanging from the ceiling.

"Almost, there. And Oliver, I want you to know, I told Hereon you're planning something."

"You caused this? You want him to cut me."

"Oh, yeah, this one's a special treat from me. Teach you to threaten me."

Ivan reached for his right arm and unable to stop himself, he broke free, his hand reached and he grabbed Ivan's throat, squeezing and he found it worth the pain, as all four of them hit him with the tasers, and his hand contracted hard on Ivan's throat, choking him viciously.

Absolutely, he found it worth it, as they tasered him and he foamed at the mouth from the voltage, and he choked Ivan even harder before he blacked out from the pain.

Still recovering, he could do nothing, as Luke quickly locked his right hand into shackle connected to the chain hanging from the ceiling.

"One day," he said the words as he recovered from the painful shock. "All of you are DEAD."

Ivan still held his throat and coughed, cursed him, then he reached and grabbed him by his hair. Pulling his hair hard, he said, "I'm looking forward to throwing you in a shallow grave, now that's your future. You're done. I'm replacing you soon. Mark my words."

Oliver spat on the ground at the man's feet. "You better hope someone bothers to bury you for I'm going to leave you lying were you land. And if I have my way no one will remember you ever existed. I'm going to kill you and him and anyone else that gets in my way. I promise you."

His chest heaved with his words.

Ivan laughed and he narrowed his eyes as the complete blackness filled his mind, and another piece of his soul deserted him, knowing he meant every word.

"You just remember I put you here."

And the man gut punched him, stealing his breath, making him gasp sharply before walking away.

Hung spread eagle, he panted for breath as he waited for the pain.

And he didn't have long to wait, as he heard the small sound of the door opening and his stomach plummeted.

The scratchy sound of a record player starting met his ears as classical music began to play while his heart sped up. His skin clammy, he pressed his lips together in a hard line.

"Do you appreciate Bach, Oliver?"

He shut his eyes wanting to escape as the music swelled.

"Can't say I'm a fan."

Hedeon's knife began to play across his skin, across his back, touching but not cutting. He inhaled sharply as the blade touched, almost lovingly, but didn't cut, no, not yet.

"Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, the 1st movement, one of my personal favorites."

"It sounds like it repeats to me."

"Give it time, it will grow on you. This version lasts about five and a half minutes. And I have certain parts that I like better than others. You'll figure that out soon enough."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Why do you bait me? I'm beginning to think you like the pain. Huh, do you, Oliver? Do you like the pain?"

Again the knife touched but did not cut.

"What no answer? Fine, then we'll move on. What are you planning, Oliver? Escape? Perhaps running again? Now that part, listen it's wonderful. Listen, right there, notice that, Oliver, hear how the music rises and falls, like a scream."

The questions unexpected, while Hedeon's blade drug savagely across the H on his back. His knife laid open his scarred flesh and the blood ran a small stream hot that tickled down his back.

But he clamped down and refused to scream for him, to give him the satisfaction but still his body shook.

"Nothing, I'm planning nothing." Yet, his body shuddered.

Gripping the chain above his hands, he held on tightly as the man made another slow cut. "And that part there. Such a nice piece. And you're lying. Ivan told me you're planning something and I believe him. I want to know what it is. Tell me. Don't make this harder."

Hedeon pulled the knife back before he slowly, sharply CUT him again, making the H wider.

"Scream for me, Oliver. And if I find out your lying to me, I'm going to skin you, piece by piece."

"I'm just training to fight. Damn you to hell."

"Scream, Oliver."

He inhaled sharply and gripped the chains with both hands, holding on, embracing the liquid pain, as he spit the words, "I won't do it."

"You will. Why do you insist on making this harder? You know I'm going to win. I always do. I can do things with this knife that you'll never forget."

Oh, how, he embraced the pain, his mind moving like a speeding train toward the pain, hoping if he could just bite back his cries long enough, Hedeon would go too far, that he would bleed him out for real this time.

And this would finally be over.

"Did you know it's close to my birthday, Oliver?"

"Well happy birthday, since it's going to be your last."

"Oh, yes, it's going to be happy for you're going to give me the best present ever. You're going to really submit for once. Now I want you to ask for it, Oliver and truly mean it."

He shut his eyes, withdrawing, before his spit flew again as he snapped out the words, "Cut me."

The blade contained liquid fiery pain, ripping through his back but he bit back his screams, denying him that much at least for as long as he could.

"I'm not convinced. Try again. Say it nicer this time. And I want you to scream for me. I want you to say PLEASE, and truly mean it."

Already his body shivered, shook him to the core, as the shock set in, and his teeth began to chatter. But he knew he had to say the quiet words that Hedeon expected, wanted, "Please, cut me."

And it hurt him violently to say the words.

Then he shook violently, his hands fisted as he bit the screams back, under the blade, as the man changed methods and cut in a sawing motion removing a piece of his skin, as the blood ran down his side, and he couldn't stop from crying out, no couldn't bite the agony off.

The music swelled in the back ground, the record finishing and then starting over again and again the same song playing over and over as he cut him again and again, sometimes making him scream but always he fought the chains.

"You bleed exceedingly nicely, Oliver. But I still don't believe you aren't planning something. Tell me what your planning and I'll stop."

"I'm planning to kill you, to kill all of you."

The words rushed out of his mouth.

The man laughed at him before asking, "And how are you planning to do that?"

"With my bare hands. I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Well that's hardly new. But you're still lying to me. I'll believe I'll give you some time to think. A few days to mull it over. Now, Oliver, did you know that you exhale water every time you breathe? And with dehydration comes confusion. You'll tell me in a couple of days. When you beg for a drink of water."

Hereon walked to the door and he heard the words, "Let him bleed and lift him off the floor. I want him to hang by his wrists. And leave the music on but turn it up. Surround him with Bach."

He found himself pulled tightly up on his chains until no slack existed in the chains from his feet, suspending him.

Then the men walked away and left him hanging for a long time, a terribly long time, until dehydration racked his body, until he'd pissed himself, until he would have done anything to not be hanging by his wrists, his arms screaming and aching, even if he could reach the chain above and use his hands to take the pressure off his arms, and until the music on repeat, Bach on repeat, started stealing his sanity.

Hanging in his own filth, degraded, he could do nothing to change his situation but exist. The music played loudly making it hard to sleep. He found himself screaming, just screaming to stop the sound, the same music as his head pounded, his mouth dry as the desert, his tongue felt thick as he reached for the darkness.

#####OQ#####

Slapping him, someone slapped him repeatedly, over and over.

"Are you thirsty? Do you want a drink, Oliver?"

Ivan slapped him again, hard.

"There you are. Wake up, Oliver."

Slowly he opened his eyes, but his head became quickly too heavy to hold up.

"Pitiful, your weak ass is just pitiful."

The man poured the water out on the floor, wasting it, and it hurt him for he could smell the water and ached for it but he knew begging would only make Luke happy.

"Awe, sorry, no water for Oliver. You ready to talk yet?"

His dry mouth hurt, and he tried to find some saliva to wet his parched mouth, as he said through chapped lips, "Screw you, Ivan. Go away and let me die in peace. I'll find you and kill you in hell later. I swear."

"Promises, promises. Screw you, Oliver. That's why you're hanging here. I know you're planning something and you don't have enough sense to stop trying to escape. Now why don't you talk and get it over with because you're not going to get a chance to make me look bad ever again."

"Now it makes sense. You're worried about me making you look bad." His heart began to race, and he found the strength to pull on the chains, to lift his head and he said, "You'll just afraid I might make it one of these times and you'll be the one hanging here."

"That's not going to happen, Mr. I won't scream for him and Mr. I can take the taser. You always have to make it harder. Just like now," he took a slow sip of the water and then spit it in his face, and he couldn't help that his skin absorbed the man's spit.

"You're dead," he fought the chains for an instant, but weakness quickly assaulted him.

"No that would be you. You're the dead man, Oliver. Wait, you're not dead yet, looks like you'll survive this one, since I hear you have a fight in a couple of days."

Useless hope filled him, hope that this time he had almost survived again, then he crushed the thoughts, realizing he would prefer the darkness for this would be over, finally over.

"What no response? Where's your smart ass comeback now, Oliver?"

He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the man.

"I'm betting against you this round and after you get your ass whipped in the ring, he'll have another go at your rib cage. Maybe even give you couple new scars? Did you note he only cut your back?"

He flinched as the man drug the water bottle across the scar on his rib cage and it hurt for the spot healed slowly.

Ivan laughed then smirked, "No, he only cut your back. He needs you to still put on a good show for the crowd. That way no one will accuse him of throwing the fight."

"And without Mike here I might die."

"Smart as always. Now you've got the picture, and you should know by now he's not going to let you die this easy."

Ivan poured the water out inches before his eyes, close enough he could truly smell the water.

"But, no, you're too much fun. And he enjoys bringing you to the brink."

Ivan drug the water bottle sharply across his aching chest again with the words, "Then he lets you heal a while so he can play the game again and again. And you make it easy for him, Mr. I won't scream."

His chest tightened, and his gut burned. "Easy? You should try these chains if you think this is easy."

Again, Ivan drunk the bottle across his chest again, grinding the bottle against his flesh. Light headed, dizziness assaulted him and the blissful darkness came again.

Cold frigid water awoke him as he fought the chains, blinking, trying to remember, which time, where he was, and who had him chained now and he could stop from licking the water from his lips to moisten his too dry mouth.

"Oliver, tell me what you're planning."

Hedeon's knife slithered like a snake across his back, not cutting just intimidating him, threatening to strike at any instant. His heart raced, beat like it would explode in his chest as he cringed and heard Bach still played in the background. Someone had just thankfully turned it down a bit.

"Answer me, Oliver. What are you planning?"

"Dying."

Shutting his eyes, he reached for the blessed blackness.

"What? Wake up, Oliver."

The knife stuck like fangs but he could barely feel it.

The haze in his mind felt good.

A strong odor assaulted him and he managed to open his eyes.

"Ivan's blurry form slapped him awake again.

Someone had hold of his hair demanding, "Are you awake now?"

His head lolled back. The darkness beckoned and he reached for it.

"What are you planning, Oliver? Tell me and I'll let you down."

He told the truth.

"I'm dying, I'm planning on dying. Please just cut me and get it over with."

The chains stopped him from reaching out for the man's throat, from squeezing and using his brute strength to end both of their lives, Ivan's and Hereon.

"Bleed me out." He demanded. "I dare you to bleed me out. You wanted me to say PLEASE. Okay, I will. Ask me to submit. You've got it. Finish me."

"He's lying." Ivan's growled the words. "What he's doing is tricking you into finishing him."

"Not a trick. I'm dying. I'm running fever. My body needs water." With severely chapped lips, he couldn't hold his head up as he said the words, "Do what you want. I don't care."

The blade came swiftly, ripping through his mangled flesh, the copper smell of blood, of his blood, filled his senses and he lost the good fight and screamed.

His chest heaving he came back, as he ripped himself away from that moment still disorientated.

"Oliver, can you hear me. Oliver, I promise you're safe. Listen to me. You're not there."

He could hear her, but still his heart beat hard, pounded in his ears.

"Feel the couch under your butt. You're safe and I'm here. Are you all right? You're breathing to shallow and you're face is white."

Wanting to answer, he found that he still couldn't talk.

"Can I get you a drink? Drinking will help ground you. Ice."

The next thing he knew something cold touched his hand. "Hold this, Oliver. Come on put your hand out and hold this."

"It's cold." Come on brain, engage, he told himself.

"Yes, it is. Can you smell me, Oliver? I'm here. Can I touch you?"

His vision cleared, the movie came into focus, and her worried face looked up at him from the other side of the couch and knew he'd frightened her this time and his stomach clenched tightly.

The movie played in the background as he blinked several times, trying to focus, reaching for now. Then he truly heard the back ground music and he remembered that music, that damn music. With fingers that trembled, he put his hands over his ears, escaping the sound.

"Turn it off. Please turn it off."

Felicity reached for the remote and clicked it off as she looked at him strangely. "Something in the movie made you flash didn't it? Riley calls what happens to you a flash, and not in a Barry kind of way. He's told me that you can't control it and you just shut down. Can I hold you? Riley says strong, firm hugs will calm your nervous system and you'll feel better quicker."

"Give me a minute." His head pounding, his chest really tight, he forced himself to raise his arms and tuck his hands under his armpits, hugging himself.

"You're breathing too shallow, Oliver, deeper, breathe deeper. Riley says."

"Stop saying his name, you're making it worse. Just listen to me and stop saying his name. I hate it when people want me to talk and then don't listen to what I say." His words were brittle. Instantly, he realized from her fallen face he'd hurt her feelings. "I'm sorry, just give me a minute. Come here, hold me."

Willingly, she came and wrapped her arms around him. "Breath deeper, Oliver. You're here with me, not there. Here. Listen you're safe. You're here."

She snuggled into his chest and he shut his eyes and breathed slowly out as his heart slowed, and he breathed her scent in. Carefully, his arms branded her solidly to him, while his thumbs cautiously rubbed small circles on her arms.

"I love you, Oliver. Be here with me."

"You're right, holding you makes me feel better." And he had spoke the truth, her arms banded solidly around him, calmed him and he truly felt safer as he inhaled her scent and pulled her close.

"Okay I don't like that movie."

"I'm not thinking we'll be watching that one ever again, not if it makes you flash." She gave him a squeeze.

"Okay."

#####OQ#####

Checking his phone, he noted the time to be a little after three in the morning, and he began to think David wasn't working tonight for no lights were on in David's house. He knew he should go home but he wanted to see with his own eyes that David truly worked the docks in the early morning hours. He had been unable to sleep and a little recon gave him something to do. However, this recon looked like a dry run, but he would give the teen a few more minutes before he gave up and left, his mind wondering to thoughts of waking Felicity up slowly when he got home.

Still no lights on, but then he saw movement on the porch. He frowned as a lanky figure stumbled down the steps barely catching himself before the teen hit the ground. And he thought, David, you have your normal coordination.

The teen scrubbed his face, and then walked over to a green minivan slightly unsteady. Yet he had a feeling David stumbled from exhaustion, not drugs or alcohol. Frowning, as he watched the teen barely close the van's door, as he swiftly managed to kill the interior lights. The van moved and he realized David hadn't started the engine, no he let the van silently roll out into the street, and the brake lights lit as he cranked the engine, and the youth still waited a half a block to turn on the head lights.

It made sense when he saw David slam the driver's door as he ran the stop sign at the end of the block. Clearly, David had just stolen the family's minivan. Well, personally, he couldn't blame the kid, his body seemed clearly worn out and from looks of things, he would have never had made to work on time if he'd to get there on foot.

He kept well back, trailing David close enough to still see him but not too close. The youth pulled in a twenty four hour gas station, and he pulled his car over too, thinking the teen needed to get a move on if he intended to be to work by four, but then he figured that the family ride needed gas or the teen wouldn't have stopped.

David climbed out of the van and hurried into the station and then jogged out of the store and began to pump his gas when a cop car whipped in behind him and hit the lights.

As he watched the door on the cop car opened and Jeff stepped out. And he found himself hoping that the teen had nothing on him for once.

"Jeff," he said out loud, "you're going to make him late." And as he watched, Jeff placed his tan Stetson on his head and used his flash light to shine in the teen's eyes, blinding him as he hung up the gas pump.

Words were exchanged and he saw Jeff make the teen spread eagle on the hood to search him, kicking his legs further apart. And from David's body language, the teen knew he would be going to jail, and he found himself gritting his teeth for he knew David had no control right now.

Quickly, Jeff roughly began to cuff David, and he could see from the youth's body language he had started imploding, his shoulders had slumped, his head down, and his hands were fisted but he submitted to the cuffs. A few minutes later, David sat head slung back against the back seat, handcuffed in the back of the cop car.

Clearly he wasn't going to make it to work on time. And he wondered if David would lose his job if he didn't show up and what would happen to the teen if he lost this income?

And then it hit Oliver that Jeff would tow and impound the only ride this family had. And he cranked his car and drove into the gas station, parking next to David's car and then got out.

"Jeff, it's good to see you."

"You too. I hear Ms. Felicity's doing well. How's the team coming? Any of them coming to practice? "

"Felicity is doing well. Thank you. And they're all coming to practice. People are talking about coming to watch them play and talking about tailgating at the games. You should come."

"I'll see what I have planned when it's that time."

"Alright, what's going on here, Jeff?"

"Just busting a pothead, a repeat offender. And you're out early, Oliver. Or is it late?"

The question hung in the air but he ignored it. As he said quietly, "That young man's one of my soccer team. What'd you find?"

"A one toker. Clearly been used, repeatedly."

Oliver sighed realizing the man sounded proud he'd busted David.

"Jeff, I hate to say this but David probably deserves for you to forget you found that one toker on him. And I'd like you to forget it too and let him go."

"Awe, too bad, he's busted. This little baby's going to cost him five hundred dollars." He rolled the small pipe that looked like a short cigarette between his fingers and grinned.

"Alright, I know you're a cop, and I know you're doing your job, but Jeff, this kid got up at 3 am to go to work on the docks. And, he's not working to have a phone, like most kids out there are. No, he's working to pay for aftercare for his three," he held up three fingers, "count them three siblings, two of which are steps, so he can go to his court ordered soccer practice."

"You're breaking my heart here."

"And he's needs to be at school by eight, after he shovels fish for three hours to pay on the fines he already has. Look at his body language, he's plainly exhausted, and he's still out here going to work. He's trying. Couldn't you see your way clear to cutting him some slack and let him go on to work?"

"Whatever." Jeff shook his head. "Oliver, you can't snow me, I've seen it all and if I haven't I've seen close to it. I've been in this business for almost twenty years and this kid's a lost cause."

"You can't know that. He's only seventeen. Still a kid. He could still do something with his life."

"Well, let me tell you about this kid. He's just like his dad, nothing but at a screw up. I've busted this same kid three times now, and he still hasn't learned. Every time I stop him he's in possession. And besides that I've worked a bunch of domestics at his house. Trust me his neighbors wish they'd move."

Oliver's jaw tightened. "His father's violent?"

"I'd say, yeah, his dad's violent and likes to knock his step mom around, though she's yet to press charges. Hell, his old man probably knocks him and the other kids around too. And it's just a matter of time before protective services will finally take those kids into state custody anyway. They're headed to foster care. Oliver, why don't you just let this one go?"

Oliver frowned, realizing that he hadn't known this about David's household either. "Well that would tell you it's his parents' fault, not David's. Come on, David's seventeen, and he's responsible for four kids. He's a least trying to keep them together as a family. And he's walking a lot. Jeff, he's walking about ten miles a day trying to hold this family together and do everything he's responsible for."

"Yeah, and he's doing drugs. What a role model."

"He's smoking pot not meth. And Jeff, I'd like to see you walk seventy or more miles a week to keep your family together. He's been shouldering them for years. All you have to do is watch them interact. They're a family and he's the adult."

"Again, he's a pot head, and a dealer. He's going to jail."

He pressed his lips into a straight line and narrowed his eyes at the man, his words low. "I hear you but if you push this, I'll get the charges dismissed."

Jeff glared hard at him. "Don't cross me, Oliver. He's part of the problem in this town."

"I know that but he's a kid. Jeff, he's a kid raising kids. And he's trying to hold on. Maybe you could let these one go?"

"He had a pipe on him. It's a clean bust. I mean it. Stay out of my business. I'm warning you here, Oliver."

"Can't Jeff, Warren and I have an understanding and I saw your bust go down. You had no probable cause to search him, except that you knew his history, which isn't probable cause. The kid was pumping pre-paid gas when you pulled in. Did you even ask him if he wanted searched?"

Jeff looked downward and he knew the man hadn't asked, no, he'd just told the kid to assume the position and searched him.

"You do remember that probable cause means you have to have some type of evidence that would lead a reasonable person to believe David had committed a crime."

"I smelled pot on him." He held up the small pipe, clearly gloating.

"Really? Then why does that one toker have pot in it? I can see neon green in the end of it, which means he hadn't lit it yet. Did you find any other weed on him?"

"No." The man frowned deeply.

"No? That means he hadn't lit it, which means you couldn't have smelled it, which means you had no probable cause to search him. Now, he has about eight minutes to get to work on time. Why don't you let him go? He's going to lose his job. And he's paying on his fines and fees. You could say he's going to work to help pay your salary."

Jeff's eyes raked over him as he frowned. "Fine, I can always bust him another day."

He narrowed his eyes at the man. "Leave him alone, Jeff. It's pot not meth, and in how many states is it legal now? And look at the revenue it's generating, this state could learn from the others."

Arching an eyebrow, the man said, "Maybe it's you I should search, Oliver?"

"I don't think so. My opinion isn't probable cause either. Now the kid's only has a few minutes to get to work. Since I'm going to make sure your charge doesn't stick, why don't you cut him loose?"

Thunder crossed Jeff's face but he turned and opened the car's door. Reaching for David, with the the sharp words, "Get out."

The man placed his hand on the youth's head and guided David out, making sure the teen didn't hit his head as David climbed out of the car.

"Where were you going?"

The teen hesitated.

"David, tell the truth." He urged him.

"I was going to work."

"Where?"

"The docks. I work the docks before school."

"Turn around," he barked the words. "Today's your lucky day. I'm in a forgiving mood."

David turned and Jeff unlocked the handcuffs, releasing him.

"Coach?" David said turning, with a question in his voice, while rubbing his wrists.

"You're free to go," Jeff said darkly. "But I'm keeping the pipe."

David blinked several times then wisecracked, "Not a problem, it's totally yours. I didn't want it anyway. Wow, thanks. But I don't understand? I'm NOT in trouble? How can I not be in trouble? You're not going to tow the van?"

Jeff's face looked grim. "No, not today. But you better stop smoking pot because I'm calling your probation officer."

"Oh, believe me he already knows. I've flunked countless times." The teen gave a dismissive wave. "Just cost me money for the drug test. Worthless."

"David! Shut up." He growled the words.

"Truly, Dad's not killing me today? I get to live? Awesome, I'm going to live to see another day."

"Just get out of here before I change my mind." Jeff snarled the words.

Oliver stepped forward. "Go to work, David. I'll see you at practice, and if you need to, you can start bringing your brothers and sisters to practice and stop paying for aftercare. I'll talk to Felicity about helping or finding someone to help watch them during practice. Maybe they could play at the park next door to the soccer field. Just let me know if you want to bring them."

And even if he had ever discussed it with her, he knew she'd help. His team had become their mission, her mission. Yes, Felicity would help, would care for the children even if she didn't know exactly how, and he would bet she'd be saying 'Google look up childcare' as soon as he told her what he'd just volunteered her for, and then she'd find some volunteers to help. Several of team had siblings. Were others on his team also struggling with aftercare costs? He needed to address this problem.

David stood for long seconds before he extended his thin boney hand with the words. "That would be awesome, Coach. Aftercare costs are killing me. Thanks, Coach. Though I'd truly looked forward to dying cause I'm sure Dad planned to kill me this time." His words came out as if he'd told a joke but Oliver wondered if the truth didn't lie behind his words.

Would this one more time in trouble have been the straw that would have broken the camel's back? Teens killed themselves all the time. They ended their lives over a whole lot less trouble than this teen had already seen, and now he knew that David lived in a violent household.

His mind flashed back to the three year old sucking on his fingers and remembered, recognized in his mind's eye David's protection stance, as he realized Kayla had stood behind David when she had meet him. And, he would bet David had stood between them and their father before, stood when things were crazy in his house, when people were screaming and crying and the cops were on the way, and David had no doubt dealt with the consequences of standing up to his father.

"Don't joke about that, David. And, if you ever need to talk, come see me. I'll listen."

And David's none response told him that the teen might not have been joking. That maybe David had been sitting in that cop car thinking about ending his life.

But instead now, David grinned, actually smiled and waved, with a lift to his step, as he jumped in his stolen van and drove away to go work for three hours in the cold, then no doubt he would put the van back in same place in the driveway, shower, and he'd walk to school.

And, yes, David had smiled as he'd started his eighteen hour day, happy he'd gotten to drive away.

Turning on his heal, Oliver extended his hand with the words, "I think you just saved that kid's life, Jeff. Thanks, you have a great night."

Jeff frowned, quickly shook his hand then grimaced. "Oliver, you do realize that you can't save them all you know?"

He opened his car door and looked Jeff straight in the eyes. "No, but we just made a difference in that one's life. Did you hear him? How would you have felt if that kid had killed himself over you busting him tonight?"

"It's a pipe, a misdemeanor. Oliver, don't be dramatic. Warren would have slapped him on the wrist, fined him five hundred dollars and life would have gone on."

"Maybe, five hundred dollars is a lot to that kid and his family. And he's already on double probation. What if he caught Warren having a bad day? What if his dad had went off on him?"

"Then his dad would have beaten him up, and he'd have ended up in a Juvenile Correctional Facility, probably until he's nineteen."

"Oh, yeah, let's send him to criminal 101 to get him ready for real prison life. Now, that's helpful. This is a teen that can sleep through classes and still gets A's. He needs to go to college not jail. And what happens to those kids he's helping raise?"

"You need to understand, Oliver, that's not's my problem. They're not my problem. I can't fix them all and there are a lot of them out there. Pay attention. This is how this works. I bust them." He ticked it off on his fingers. "The precursor and their public defender cop a plea, and then the judge fines them, hits them with so many hours of community service, or now this foolish soccer crap and then the system spits them back out again."

And Jeff smirked at him and he thought the word, asshole.

"I take it you weren't a huge soccer team supporter then?" He forced himself not to clench his fists, to keep the small fake smile on his face as he added the words, what a JERK in his mind.

"Can't say I am. I think what a foolish waste of state money on a bunch of worthless punks? And those kids that teen is helping raise are just going to end up in the system anyway, which means you're just putting off the enviable."

"I don't believe that. David's baby brother is at least three which means that teen's been holding it together for at least four years and probably more. The question is why haven't you taken the dad out of the equation?"

His hands fisted and he longed to be able to take care of this problem his way. He ached to take David's father off the board, but he knew that would be a mistake in a small town, especially since Warren and Mae already had their suspicions about him.

"Like most abused women, the mom won't press charges. Most domestic abuse cases are like that. The entire family clams up as soon we arrive. Can't say I blame them for even if I do take the man to jail, most men bond out and then go straight back home and then you know what happens?"

"You get to come back again?"

"Yeah, or normally someone goes to the ER or worse yet, I get to call the coroner. And even if the woman and kids go into hiding, most of the time they go back. The court systems give dad visitation every other weekend. So what if dad beat mom up? Or if the family's do manage to get out, most of time the men stalk them, and then about seventy percent of their spouses kill them after they leave."

"Seventy percent. That's a lot. I never knew."

"Yeah, leaving an abusive spouse is the most dangerous thing an abused woman can do. I mean after their spouses leave what do these men have to lose? Every year, lots of women die at the hands of a loved ones. And let me tell you Oliver, restraining orders don't stop them from killing you. That piece of paper doesn't slow that bullet down at all."

"Okay, I get it. But my point is if that kid kills himself, your job is to call the coroner and then that's one just that you won't have to brother with again."

"Hey, I don't make the rules, I just enforce them. And no one will press charges on the dad. You don't understand domestic calls, Oliver. They are a no win situation for any one. And again, Oliver, you need to realize that you can't save them all. And," he pointed a finger at him, "don't you think I'm going to roll over every time you ask me to. You're lucky I decided I didn't want to do the paperwork or put up with the hassle of taking him to juvy this time of night. Don't push your luck, Oliver."

"Big of you, Jeff." And he gave him a nod and climbed back in the car as he thought once more about how broke the system had become. But at least for tonight, David had dodged the bullet and would live to work another eighteen hour day.

#####OQ#####

I look forward to your thoughts. And as always, thanks for the read. Now drop me note if you have time.


	35. Chapter 35

Okay, all I know this update has been a long time in coming. First I had to write Felicity's Fury and Oliver's Green Notebook, because the idea refused to shut up and leave me alone. No excuses but my world has been beyond crazy the last few weeks at home, and then I had to survive this year's two hell weeks at work. Darn REAL LIFE is killing me.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter for it has been very long in the works and will finally answer some questions I know a lot of you have had. Many thanks to all that people that take the time to review and special thanks to the ones that helped shape some of the ideas for this chapter. (You'll know who you are as you read. I would have personally given you a shout out but didn't figure you wanted to wait another week for this update, though I would love to edit it another week or two but I will post it and hope the mistakes are not glaring.)

Now, I'll be quiet and tell my story but as always thanks for the read!

#####OQ#####

"Felicity, good to see you. Have a seat and give me just a second and let me finish up this note."

Riley typed away at the laptop on his desk as he grinned up at her.

She sat in the chair across from Riley, as the man shut the lid to the laptop and smiled up at her, with the words, "How would you like to play chess today?"

"What makes you think I play chess?" She said softly, giving a sight wave of her hand, realizing that Riley was trying to put her at ease.

He smiled and said, "I thought maybe your father taught you how to play chess."

"My father hardly stuck around long enough to teach me anything."

"Your mother then?"

Clearing his desk, he unfolded a wooden chess board and dumped the chess pieces on his desk.

"Trust me my mother's an airhead. She doesn't even know how the pieces move."

"But I know you play."

"Okay, Anna must have told you."

He nodded and said, "You're right."

"I learned to play chess in school, learned against a computer. And you? Did your dad teach you to play?'

"No, my dad died in a car wreck when I was young. I learned from Warren, Mae's husband. And I played a lot in the Army. Lots of time in the sand during down time, and I'm not half bad if I do say so myself."

"Warren, of course, I remember hearing you were friends with their son."

Lifting his right eye brow, he said, "I was. Mae always blamed her gray hair on the two of us. But, regardless, I'm hoping for some real completion here. Does Oliver play chess?"

A small laugh escaped her before she said, "We've never discussed it. But I would bet he does."

"As competitive as he is I would guess he would."

"I noted you to be competitive too. What if I'm more than competition? Can you handle that?"

Picking up two pawns, he closed his hands around pieces and asked, "Oh, don't worry, I can handle it. I've lost games before. Okay, your choice, left or right hand?"

"Left."

Opening his left hand, he showed her the white pawn, and she had a problem suppressing her smile.

Leaning forward, she began to setup the board. First she placed the white king and queen together, then the bishops, the knights, and finally the rooks on the very end of the board.

Riley finished setting up his row of pawns, just after she'd lined up her pawns.

"White leads," he said with a wave of his large hand.

"Strange that even in a game that's century's old, white's still gets to go first."

She moved the pawn in front of her queen up one spot, and thought how strange this was, sitting here with a therapist, almost talking about Oliver Queen.

He moved the pawn in front of his bishop one spot, with the words, "Prejudice's been around a long time, Felicity."

"Too long."

"I agree and believe me everyone bleeds the same color red. Yet, in chess at least they tried to balance it for which piece is the most powerful? Who can move any direction?"

"The queen. But she is the only female piece on the board." She said quietly.

"Yeah, the lone woman has the most power. Gives you pause doesn't it? Now how have you been sleeping?"

He moved the pawn in front of his knight two spots, and she reached and slid her queen down the white row like a bishop until she ran out of board, and gave him a slight smile with the words, "You're correct the queen has the most power and that would be check mate. Game over. Rematch?"

Wide eyed, he blinked several times before he grinned and reached out and lay his king down on its side. Giving a sharp nod of his head, he said, "Okay, I can see that my chess skills are not a challenge at all. And, as loser, I'll put the game away."

"You're sure you don't want a rematch?"

"Felicity, you just beat me in like three moves, I'll concede to the master. At least you've played this game before unlike when Oliver crushed me at darts. I think I need to choose a game of chance. Yahtzee, maybe?"

"Can't say I care for Yahtzee since it's pretty much a game of luck, and as someone raised in Vegas, can't say I care for games of chance."

Pushing the chess pieces off the board, he flipped the wooden board over and began replacing the pieces inside the box as he said, "But at least at Yahtzee, I might have a chance at winning."

She grinned at him until he ask, "And again how are you sleeping? Is the new blood pressure dose helping with Oliver's nightmares or is he still waking you up every night?"

It felt strange talking about this with Riley. She frowned as she realized she felt the need to protect Oliver and talking about him waking her up every night seemed almost a betrayal.

"I see that look on your face. Listen, you're not divulging his secrets by talking about this."

She wanted to say, but you don't know the secrets I know but she didn't. Instead, she said, "Didn't you mention playing Yahtzee? It's been years since I've played. Well, to tell the truth I don't think I've ever played. I'm pretty sure I've always had better things to do."

Laughing, he said, "You make playing Yahtzee sound about as exciting as watching paint dry or watching grass grow. Okay, maybe next time, but for now you're avoiding my question, and I'm calling you on it."

"Oliver is hard to talk about, Riley."

"I'm aware that you find it hard to talk about him, but you need to remember why you're here. Remember that you and I have talked about the fact you need to have goals and expectations from these sessions and if you don't tell me the truth, how can you expect me to help you or Oliver?"

"It just seems too personal to talk about things like that to other people."

"I'm not asking about your sex life, Felicity, just how often Oliver has nightmares. And let me remind you that my professional ethics forbid me from revealing whatever you share with me. You need to feel free to tell me anything." He grinned and added, "Come on, spill. Be honest. I don't judge. I'm here to listen. I can help make your life better. Remember, I'm the one without legs , think about what I've seen."

She nodded but managed to hold her tongue. Honestly, she didn't know what to say that wouldn't pull her down the rabbit hole and her turn into Alice, since she could quickly say the wrong thing and reveal too much of their lives, way too much of their lives.

Yet, as Riley looked at her in expectation, she said quietly, "Oliver doesn't like to talk about his nightmares."

"Of course, he doesn't since it brings all the trauma back. Remember if you don't want to answer a question, you can simply say I don't want to answer that question," and he looked pointy at her, "But understand, I know how to use the internet too, Felicity. And I appreciate that Oliver's a very multi-layered man and I've looked his name up. And trust me if you type Oliver Queen into a search box, you get back some interesting results."

"Well that's one way to put it."

"Yes, it is." 

Frowning, she added, "Okay, I rather not answer that question. But you're right, my goal here is to put Oliver's butt in this chair not mine. And you're right I have expectations. Major expectations, I want, no, I need to learn how to help him learn to live again, need to understand him better, do whatever it takes to make us better and stronger, and do whatever it takes to keep us together."

"Yet, you don't want to talk to me about him." Riley sighed and added, "Okay, I'll guess that he wakes you up a lot, probably every night. Question, do you have a night light in the bedroom or a nearby bathroom?"

"No to the light and yes to the bathroom, why?"

She hadn't seen that question coming and she frowned.

"A nightlight will help ground him back to reality faster when he wakes up from a nightmare. It will make the room seem more familiar, safer, bring him back to now and reality faster. It can help him feel safe especially if you induce the light with the words, 'We're safe. When you look at this know we're safe. He'll remember the words when he comes back to reality in the middle of the night."

"Do you have a nightlight, Riley?"

He froze and gave her a half grin, with the words, "I've noted you like to turn my words back on me, and yes, Anna has a blue nightlight, Felicity, and maybe you should have one too."

"Of course," she made air quotes with her fingers, "Anna has a nightlight, not you? But blue why blue?"

He didn't meet her eyes as he said, "According to the research I've read our brain's frontal lobes respond to the blue light and supposedly the blue light improves the memory and a person's organizational skills."

"I could use some of that myself. Does it work for you?"

"I'm not sure if it truly works or not, but I admit I sleep better with it on, which means we leave it on."

"Placebo effect, maybe?"

"Maybe? You know it's nice to work with someone with a college education. I can almost see the wheels turning. And oh, yeah, maybe it's the placebo effect but I don't care."

"If it works it works?"

He waved his hand at her, with the words, "Exactly. Whatever helps keep the dreams at bay I'm for, and Anna is too, because both of us sleep better. And we need rest, Felicity. The body needs rest, and Oliver needs to sleep more than he does."

"I understand that. And I like talking to you too. I find you to be quite bright."

"I'll take that as a compliment, even if it feels like you almost insulted me. And I'm glad you like talking to me, but all I know is that some people claim the light helps calm the dreams. I personally, need to calm my dreams. Feel free to look it up, since I know you will."

And she gave a small grin, knowing she would indeed look it up.

"Regardless, therapists have used blue light therapy for PTSD for years with mixed results and the super store sells them. Go buy one and try it in the bedroom first and if either of you have problems with insomnia, move it into the hall or into the bathroom."

"Alright, I'll try the nightlight if it will help him sleep more." She couldn't stop the words, "He needs to sleep more."

"Good, now remember if he wants to talk about what happened to him, don't judge him, just listen. Keep in mind that his PTSD came from him being helpless during some time in his life, not from being weak."

Narrowing her eyes, she assured him, "Oliver isn't weak and never has been, at least not in years. And he doesn't talk about what happened to him."

"Most people with PTSD don't talk about what happened to them and you shouldn't press him to talk about it if it's hard for him. And I sure you're right about him not being weak but understand that but sometime in his life he had no control of his situation and that does things to people's minds. He's trapped in his mind, Felicity, and probably a lot of times his mind's on replay."

"That's a good way to put it."

She thought of how many years she's thought the same thing about him, that he found himself unable to get rid of what ever controlled his thoughts in his head, that at times he'd slipped back into the past in his head and wasn't living in the present. And she wondered exactly how many times he'd been helpless and knew the answer had to be more than once.

"And you have to understand that he's never dealt with his trauma, and he doesn't know how to deal with it. But, don't think you can MAKE him talk about his trauma. The worst thing you can do is demand he face his trauma. Some therapists believe you should make the person talk about the trauma over and over but I don't. I think it's too much for a person's brain. If a person won't and can't talk about the trauma and you try to desensitize them by forcing them to relive the trauma over and over, then what you're really doing is re-traumatize the person. I understand that Oliver just can't talk about it. Now, are you taking care of yourself, Felicity?"

"Huh?" Her head snapped up as Riley had smoothly just moved the ball back into her court.

"Yes, you, Felicity. You need to take better care of yourself too. Living with someone with PTSD is exhausting. You need to remember that when you get stressed you need to take a girl's day out with friends, with Anna maybe."

"I went to lunch with her yesterday."

"That's good but you also need to do whatever you enjoy, what makes you happy. If doing your nails helps you cope, then do your nails, if you like to read, then read, or if you like to write, then write but do something to take care of you, everyone copes in their own way."

"I'm coping fine, Riley, remember this is about Oliver."

"No, it's about both of you. Now for your homework."

"Homework? You never mentioned homework?"

"Felicity, it takes more than an hour a week to work on changing your life. Unfortunately, I don't have magic power to sprinkle over my patients to change their lives."

"Darn just when I was hoping for pixie dust. Do I need to take notes?"

Riley grinned then said, "Nothing that hard for now. What I want you to do is find one good thing about your day each and every day. We as humans seem hard wired to concentrate on the bad things, and it takes five to ten positive events to offset one negative event. If you to take a little time every day to think happy thoughts it makes a person happier. And you need to understand that living with Oliver makes it hard not to get PTSD yourself from his trauma."

"He's not that bad." She said quietly, as she thought, Riley had no idea of the trauma, the drama that followed Oliver around, and she didn't think she had PTSD, abandonment issues maybe but not PTSD.

"Believe me that holding a relationship together some days seems almost impossible for some couples. Even Anna and I have hard days and not a day passes that I'm not thankful for her patience with me, and I know Oliver is more that thankful for you too. He loves you, Felicity, deeply and it shows. And perhaps you could get him to think about finding a good thing about his day too, maybe give you something to discuss during your evening meal or before bed."

"I can do that but believe me, Riley, I'm doing alright, and truthfully things are calmer right now in our lives than they have been in years. Oliver's enjoying his coaching job, and he's slowly getting to know his players. And as a couple, I think we are in the best place we've even been."

His phone sounded and she said, "Guess that's it until next week."

"No, that's Anna texting me, and yeah, no pressure intended here but Anna wanted me to ask you when you're finally going to invite us for dinner? We've never been to your house, and I hear Oliver's an excellent cook."

And she thought, right no pressure?

But she said, "He's an amazing cook, something I'm well, just not good at, in fact, I bet I could burn water, in fact, I have. I burned up the pot and smoked up the house. Hmm but that's a story for another day."

She frowned remembering that she'd been trying to make mac and cheese but had gotten caught up in her tablet, and the next thing she knew Oliver had been yelling about her trying to burn the house down.

Riley gave a small laugh before he ask, "But Oliver enjoys cooking?"

"He takes it almost to an art form, which is a good thing, or we'd be starving or eating takeout every meal."

"Felicity, did you ever think that cooking appeals to Oliver because it's something that he can control every aspect of?"

She mulled that thought over and frowned, realizing Riley could be right. Oliver sought control in entirely everything and cooking he could totally control.

"I've never really thought about his cooking in those terms, but yes, he's an awesome cook. What do you excel at Riley?"

"Not chess or darts it seems. Regardless, Anna wants me to bug you about dinner. And, yes, I know Oliver will be far from thrilled."

"Now, you're the one avoiding the question." She gave him a slight smile before she added, "How about not this Saturday but next, which will give him over a week to adjust to the idea? He's not going to like you two coming. I'll have to work him up to it."

Riley smiled a tiny smile and his phone sounded again. "That's time, but Felicity, as homework, I also want you to think about your childhood between now and next week's visit. I think you may have some issues with your father and mother that you should work through yourself."

The color drained from her face as she frowned deeply. Standing, she gave a wave before she turned and left the room with the words, "I'll think about it. See you next week."

Heading to work at the hospital, she refused to think about her father or her mother, and instead worked in the comfort of the system. She wrote some code and put out a couple of cyber fires, but the Clark's pending dinner invitation bothered her. Knowing that Oliver would be unhappy when she told him, she decided to take the easy way out and text him.

"Dinner with the Clarks Saturday after next. Our treat. Our house. What do u want 2 cook?"

His text pinged, almost instantly.

"U can't b serious?"

"I am. Ur turn to cook. Anna's my friend u know? Please!" She hit the send button.

No answer came back and she frowned but refused to rise to the bait, knowing he didn't want them to come, knowing she'd put him between the rock and the hard place. And knowing that she'd just made him feel guilty, she let him stew for a while.

A little later, she texted. "I love u. And u can do this. It could be fun."

And even an hour later, he still hadn't returned her text. Clearly, he planned to ignore her. "Okay," she said to her phone, "you just do that, Oliver."

But before she knew it the day had passed. Heading to the car after work, her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see John's face. A large smile lit her face as she accepted the call.

"Hey, John. What's up? Everything alright?"

"Believe it or not it is, and I'm sitting in deadlock traffic headed home to Lyla and Sara. And since I find myself with more than a few minutes free, I thought I'd talk to you. How are things going for you?"

"If you mean, Oliver, he's truly starting to settle in. The coaching job's good for him. He's still not gotten his blood pressure exactly under control but the doctor keeps trying."

"That's good but no I'm asking about how you are, not Oliver, you. How are you feeling? Your lungs good?"

"Seriously, John, are you still mad at Oliver? It's been months now."

"It has been a while, but it's you that didn't answer the question, Felicity. How are you feeling?"

"I'm well, John. I only have to hit the inhaler once in a while, and believe it or not, I'm currently going to counseling."

"I'd heard that you were going to see a guy named Riley Clark."

"From who, John?"

"Okay, I'm busted. Oliver told me."

"Awe, you're talking to him again aren't you? That's awesome. I'm really glad."

"It's no big deal. He needed to talk about something, and I've been his sounding board for so long, I understand him calling me."

"And you're there for him. I'm proud of you, John."

"Stop, I've just talked to him a few times. Don't blow this out of proportion. It's not like we kissed and made up."

"Right, you just wanted to kill him a few months ago, and now you're talking to him about my counselor Riley Clark, which I know that me going to counseling is freaking him out, since it's freaking me out too. I mean I can't just talk to the man about the last three years of my life. And the last thing I want to do is mention Ra's, the League of Assassins or the Lazarus pit. Oh, and maybe I should add that by the way, I'm sleeping with the Arrow, aka the Hood, and living with the man who spent the last five years in hell but won't talk about it how he learned Russian, where he learned to fight fly a plane or where he got most of his scars. And who knows what else he's got locked up in that brain of his? Good heavens, John, I'd end up locked up in a padded room myself."

John barked a laugh. "That's one way to put things. I could see where this could be dangerous territory for you. Then why are you going?"

"I want Oliver to get help dealing with his PSTD. If we're going to stay together, if we're going to make this work, he has to get better and like most things in my life, I'm trying to solve the puzzle."

"And Oliver's the puzzle right?" John asked quietly.

She smiled before she said, "Yeah, okay, he is and since you're talking to him again, I want you to talk to him about going and seeing Riley. He does a new treatment where Oliver wouldn't have to talk about what happened to him and the therapy helps his brain process the event. He has real issues, John."

The man seriously snickered before he said, "Really, you think Oliver has issues? Now that's too funny."

"His PTSD is hardly funny sometimes. Try living with him."

"Alright, I'll talk to him the next time he calls. But Felicity do you honesty expect him to cook dinner for the Clark's?"

"Now you're totally busted. He's called you today to complain that I volunteered him to cook next Saturday night didn't he?"

Silence filled the moment before he said quietly, "Alright, yeah, he did. He doesn't like Riley Clark, Felicity and the man makes him nervous. He's only acting like he likes this Riley guy to please you."

"I know that John but that's because he doesn't want to go to counseling. And the two of them are a lot alike. I think Riley reminds him of himself too much. But regardless, he truthfully needs to learn to deal with this PTSD and to go to therapy."

"Yeah, maybe when pigs fly. You don't seem to get that man, Riley Clark, rubs him the wrong way. Hey traffic's moving now. I'm going to get off here. You need to think about it. You're pushing him again and you know if you push him too hard he'll run. Now I love you."

"Love you too, John. But you be sure to tell him I expect something mouthwatering on Saturday, something that truly impresses the Clark's. And I know he knows how."

John laughed as he ended the call.

#####OQ#####

His head snapped back from the force of the man's punch. Jumbled, his mind became unsure as he didn't know real from fantasy. Unable to stop the dream, he felt the water drag him down, drag him under the cold depths. The water everywhere, he fought the chains on his wrists, and he realized he couldn't find her no matter how hard he swam, no matter how many times he dove and his heart wanted to explode as he breathed hard and fast.

Over and over, he dove beneath the murky water but no matter how many times he dove, he found only darkness.

His head broke the surface.

Gasping air, he dove again and again, but no matter how hard he swam, no matter how deep he dove, he couldn't find her and his brain refused to accept that she'd drowned and that he found himself alone.

His heart raced and he screamed her name, over and over, his brain on replay.

"Felicity! Where are you? Answer me! Felicity! Please! Answer me."

Bolting straight up in the bed, he came back gasping and fighting the covers, drowning in sweat.

The darkness lay heavy in the room, and the blue nightlight glowed like a beacon, from the bathroom to his left. Blinking, his heart racing, his mind started to clear as he realized Felicity'd reached and patted his chest lightly, with the words, "Shh, it's only a dream. I'm right here. Feel me. Smell me, I'm here. Right here. Beside you. Try to find real, Oliver. Look at the light."

Blinking, he stared at the small blue light coming from the bathroom and his breathing slowed somewhat. Slowly, his mind cleared, and he remembered she'd installed the blue nightlight today, and he still hadn't gotten used to it.

"We're safe," she'd said as she'd plugged it in this evening before bed. Winking at him, she said, "I want you to remember when you look at it that we're safe here, you and me safe here together."

Rubbing his eyes, he stared at that small blue light remembering she'd claimed she'd need the small light since she'd got lost sometimes in the night, and the light would make it easier on her.

And, she'd smiled her wonderful bright smile at him.

But now as he awoke from the dream's rush, as he woke from the nightmare's grasp, he looked at the light and wondered if she'd bought it for him, if she'd bought it to help ground him as she called it.

"Go back to sleep, Felicity. I'm okay."

"No, you're not. I can hear it in your voice. Come here, Oliver."

Reaching for her, he moved closer, breathing in her scent. But the dreams haunted him, ran like a river through his head, and he almost feared touching her as he fought to find real, fought to find now.

"Can I touch you?"

She asked as she reached out, and his reflexes caught her hand with the words, "No. Not yet. Wait. Give me a little bit of time. I'll recover in a minute and be okay. Wait."

He breathed in and out and tried to find his center, and she thankfully listened and gave him some space.

"Better?" She questioned, in a quiet voice.

"Yeah. I'm almost okay now."

"Good, touch me, Oliver, find now with me," she said softly, as her hand linked her fingers with his fingers, and she placed his hand on her warm breast.

He realized her nipple tighten, realized he caressed her warm, soft breast as her breast molded to his hand, while her heart beat softly beneath his hand, connecting them.

And pure pleasure washed over him as beneath his large hand, her nipple grew hard beneath his touch, while her heart sped up and he exhaled sharply.

Swallowing thickly, he leaned down and his lips moved, finding the beating pulse on her neck. And he couldn't stop himself or himself back as he softly sucked her skin.

"Right there, Oliver. Yes, kiss me right there."

And she sighed, and said, "Yes, touch me. I love it when you touch me, when you kiss me, and when you make me your focus. You turned me on, Oliver. Yes, please, make love with me, not to me but with me."

She pulled him down, guided his head to her neck, her breasts, as she gave a sweet pleasurable sound, and gave her sounds that totally disrupted his thought process, as his mouth met her silky skin.

Unexpectedly, his need inflamed him, desire clawed him with sharp nails and became past intense. His hands roughly stripped his soft t-shirt from her body, and he refrained from ripping her panties crudely from her body.

Unable to help himself, he whispered in her ear, "I ache to see you naked beneath me. Yes, I need you totally naked beneath me, right now. I'm almost out of control right now, Felicity. I have to make sure you're here, not gone, here with me, now. I'm sorry but I need to know that now is NOW."

"Oh, yeah, I'm right here with you. Feel me. Feel my hands on you," she reassured him as her hands drug him closer and together they flew rapidly, flew hard into the light and exploded.

#####OQ######

A while later, cautiously, when he knew she'd slept hard enough, when he knew she wouldn't wake up, he climbed from their bed.

And again for too many nights, he kicked the soccer ball until almost dawn. Returning, dripping sweat, he showered, cleared the message from her tablet and quietly, on soundless feet, returned her tablet to her bedside. Silently, he returned to her bed, he'd set his alarm for a little over an hour later and tried to rest, totally exhausted, and past spent.

But sleep eluded him, his brain focusing on, thinking about his team. Today, he needed to touch base with Phil, needed to figure out if Phil needed to go to rehab or if he could try to resume his life. Probably needed to go and see Warren and bring him up to speed. And he still needed a goalie and needed do something to help the three players that'd attacked him catch up on learning to play soccer. He'd punished them long enough to make an impression. And there might be some hope still for Malone. The list in his head continued to grow. He wanted to meet David's father face to face and size the man up. He should stop by and check on how Tyler and Mindy were holding up.

Opening his eyes, he eyed the blue nightlight as he tried to slow him brain by thinking about her making slow changes to their lives.

She'd taken his caffeine away after three now, and they'd discussed that she didn't want him to run or exercise in the evenings, though she'd encouraged him to walk the beach with her in the twilight. He needed to learn to wind down, to relax more, and yes, he did find walking with her hand in hand relaxing but that didn't stop the dreams.

She'd taken his screens away and even agreed that even she could benefit from no screen time thirty minutes before bed, since she'd learned and told him that computer screens and other things like her tablet admitted a light that keeps the brain awake, so they need to kill the screens at least thirty minutes before bedtime to sleep better.

Yes, she'd become intent on helping him sleep better.

And the more she saw Riley, the more she threw new terminology at him, as she tried to explain to him what went on inside his head.

With quiet words, she'd told him that if he wanted to talk about the bad things that had happened that she wouldn't judge him, that she would just listen but they could learn to live with his PTSD, that he needed to understand that she would live with anything that had happened to him because she loved the now him.

He mulled that thought over and over. The fact that she loved the now him, as he fell into an exhausted sleep, knowing he could sleep, knowing he could rest an hour because he'd set the alarm, and he wouldn't enter REM and dream.

Heavens knew he hated dreaming, and he buried his nose in her neck and breathed her scent in and it calmed him.

#####OQ#####

Felicity jerked awake to find him lightly snoring, his nose in her neck. Heart pounding, she'd been fighting the water in the dream and had been losing, with the tide pulling her under. Cautiously, she managed to unwrap from his body without waking him. Padding on bare feet, she went to the bathroom, and coming back to the bed, she stretched and yawned, looking at him, trying to forget the dream. His body honed and handsome, and he made her smile for his body inspired her.

Glancing toward the bathroom, she thought about turning the night light off but she left it on. Anything to help him sleep better for she knew he needed to sleep more.

Riley had explained in their first session people who had PTSD normally had terrible nightmares, and Oliver probably had horrible dreams that stole his rest, and Riley'd explained that when Oliver slept, he let his guard down, which allowed the bad memories to surface, and that it wasn't his fault that he couldn't sleep for long stretches at a time.

And she knew she'd made mistakes in their relationship, a lot of mistakes. She'd pushed him too hard more than once trying to force him to talk when he hadn't been ready and had stepped into his personal space more than once. Now she understood that maybe sometimes she'd pushed him too hard, but never had she feared he would hurt her, for she couldn't imagine Oliver ever hurting her on purpose. 

The light barely broke the dawn outside their window, and she grabbed his phone to check the time. Watching, the time flipped to 5:55 a.m., and she noted he'd set the alarm for 6:02 a.m.

Such an odd time to pick to wake up but that's Oliver. Yes, he liked to be different.

Swiping the screen, she decided he looked much too content, much too calm to get up in seven minutes, and she knew how much he needed to sleep, and as she eyed him, she realized he'd started dropping weight again. It didn't matter if he didn't talk about losing weight, and even though he constantly seemed to be eating lately, the weight continued to fall off him. She'd noted that she'd seen him drink protein drinks this week, yet, she could swear the weight kept dropping off him anyway.

Her finger hovered, and she bit her lip in indecision, but she tapped the screen and shut his alarm off. Silently, she replaced his phone on the nightstand.

Climbing back in the bed with him, she snuggled up to his hard, warm back, as she eyed the large scar, and she realized the mark did indeed look like a H, and she wondered how that man, that animal had dared to do that to another human, had dared to mark him. And she found herself hoping he'd killed the monster that hurt him that badly as she fell back to sleep, as she pulling him tightly against her body, her hand gently stroking his H.

#####OQ#####

Hereon says strip your shirt off," Ivan told him, reaching to prod him in the shoulder with the unlit taser.

Reacting, he caught the man's taser and diverted the blow, with the sharp words, "Does he want me to throw the fight too?"

"Shut up, Oliver."

"Make me."

And Ivan eyed him but didn't make a move in his direction.

So he ask,"Truly how beat up does he want me? It'd be nice to know what I need to do here."

"You need to take your shirt off and do what you're told. But we both know you suck at that, don't we?"

He shrugged, ignoring Ivan's words as he added, "You didn't answer the question. Do I throw the fight or win?" He gave a wave of his right hand before he added. "I just need to know what to do here?"

"You've got a real attitude lately, Oliver. Just take off your shirt and stop giving me a hard time."

And he thought, as he narrowed his eyes at the man, oh I haven't even begun to give you a hard time. You wait.

The bell rang and as he watched two men drag the last fight's loser away, while the winner, bled freely as he raised his arms in victory.

"You're up next and I don't care if you win or lose, I just know I can't wait to replace you. Now last chance you take it off now or you'll never have a shirt again, and you just think you're cold all the time as it is."

His stomach clinched as the darkness raged inside him. His chest tightened and his hands fisted, as the hate raged through him, knowing Ivan would do it. The man would take his shirt and teach him to live in the cold without it, just as he'd taken his shoes. And Hedeon fully intended to make this fight harder for him. Yes, the man wanted to show off his mark, wanted to display the large still healing H on his back.

Hedeon wanted the crowd to know the man owned him, wanted the crowd to know that he belonged to the man, that he'd marked him as nothing but property. Reaching inward, he welcomed the darkness inside him, reached for the very blackness within him, knowing what he planned, knowing exactly how he would do it, not just for him but for Mike.

With a vicious jerk, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and slung it to the bench he sat on, but he forced himself to reach and snatch the shirt up and he folded the dirty t-shirt with meticulous lines. Reaching down, he removed his filthy socks and folded his socks carefully in half and laid them beside his shirt.

The floor icy, bitter cold, he stood on bare feet and schooled his face.

Focus, he told himself. FOCUS, his mind screamed, as he ignored the cold floor and the small loss of warm from his thin t-shirt. Cold hardly bothered him now, it had become nothing, like hunger, cold equaled normal. His brain engaged, became single purposed as he walked toward the ring.

Climbing into the ring with careful movements, he noted Hedeon sat at his normal table at ringside and like throwing a switch, he shut the world off. The crowd disappeared from his mind, the low murmur of people talking, cheering, whistling, the cigarette smoke that hung heavy in the warehouse's air, and instead he focused on the large man across from him in the ring.

Almost in slow motion, he heard the bell ring, and he ruthlessly attacked his opponent, knocking him to the ground.

The man punched his chest wound, and he almost crumbed, but he reached for the darkness within him, and with a roar, grabbed the man's hand, twisting hard until he heard bone snap with a satisfying POP. Following up for the kill, he slammed the man's head hard against the mat, leaving him momentary dazed.

Rolling away from the man in a rush, he danced toward the edge of the ring, as he saluted Hedeon just as he jumped up, not hesitating for an instant, as he jumped to the top rope. Using all that practice, all that time spent in the cage strengthening his legs,  he balanced himself on the rope with his bare feet and  jumped, no doubt looking graceful, as he mightily leap a good four feet straight onto Hedeon's body, straight into his lap.

Eyes wide, screaming, cursing, Hedeon's face contorted, twisted, as he landed hard on top of the man. With a large splintering noise, he felt the chair give way under both of them, dropping them hard with a jar to the solid concrete floor. In mere instants, both of them collapsed into a heap on the floor, with him coming out on top and fighting Hedeon's frantic hands.

He'd replayed this moment in his mind almost repeatedly, for the last month, planning every detail, planning everything that could happen, planning everything that could go wrong, especially as he'd hung those hours in the darkness with Bach playing on repeat in the background. 

Oh, yes, Ivan had been right. 

He'd planned this, even before Mike had died, even more after he'd killed Mike to end his suffering, and he'd counted on Hedeon pulling his knife.

Yes, he wanted him to reach for the weapon, ached for Hedeon to pull his blade, and he backed his grip off, giving the man time to reach, allowing him to reach.

"Damn you, I'll cut you bad for this."

The man fought him, and Hedeon's strength surprised him, as they fought, and he managed to get his knife out.

"Not this time. Remember Mike? My promise." He spat the words.

No, this time he didn't hesitate. 

Using his brute strength, his complete black rage, he watched the fear grow in Hedeon's eyes, as he forcefully turned the man's knife hand and savagely turned that hated knife, that wicked sharp blade, the one that had cut him repeatedly, the one Hedeon had made him ask nicely for, and he plunged it straight into Hedeon's chest, straight into his evil heart.

Then for good measure, as he watched the disbelief, the panic grow in the man gray eyes, he twisted then pulled the knife from Hedeon's heart and grabbing his hair, he savagely stabbed right below the ear, just under the jaw line as Slade had taught him, severing the man's carotid artery with the words, "I'll see you in HELL. Wait on me."

The man's blood spat hot on his cold skin as he sharply pulled the knife out, wishing he could have let him linger but knowing he'd no time left to prolong the man's death if he wanted to escape.

But time slowed, as the man's last ten micro-seconds ticked away before his eyes, as the man's brain quickly began to die from lack of fresh blood flow. Oh, yes, he watched, no, he relished the life leaving the monster's gray eyes, and his hate burnt deep, dark, and intense enough that it consumed him. 

But no time existed to think about Hedeon now. He slammed Hedeon's lifeless body to the concrete, as the room exploded in wild motion. The crowd had realized he'd just jumped from the top rope of the ring and killed his handler in a matter of seconds and they were scattering like a flock of birds. 

He wished he had more time for his hate, and even knowing he didn't, he still plunged the man's knife back in his chest one more time.

Ice formed a hard crust inside him. Completely emotionless now and covered in Hedeon's spattered blood, he jumped lightly to his feet, like a large cat, sleek and deadly. 

Flipping the scarred wooden table, he dumped Hedeon and the other's man's drinks, shattering glass and liquid on the concrete floor. Using his bare foot and his weight, he snapped a table leg off.

Instinct served him well as he twisted on his bare foot in time to side step a large man rushing toward him. 

Wasting no motion, he reached and snapped another wooden table leg off with a loud crack that echoed in the large room, and he grimaced as he stepped on the glass and cut his left foot badly, but he shut the pain off and moved.

Holding the two table legs, he waved them in the air, as he yelled, "I am Bratva. Who is Bratva here? Help a brother. I ask for safe passage to Anatoly Knyazev."

Turning quickly, Hedeon's friend, an older man who normally sat with Hedeon during most of the fights, had finally gathered his wits and managed to pull a pistol, but before he could get off a shot, Oliver lashed out with the table leg and knocked the gun from the man's hand, no doubt breaking his wrist, as he shoved the man roughly away from him. The older man hit the concrete hard, with a grunt and a dull thud, as he lay prone on the floor.

Stuffing the table leg under his arm, he scooped the gun up off the concrete. Shoving the pistol into the waistband of his pants, he retrieved the table leg in time to turn as another man rushed toward him. 

Hooking the back of the man's leg, he dropped the dark headed man hard to the ground and finished him off by clubbing him in the head.

Spinning on his bloody heal, he knocked the taser out of his first guard's Gleb's hand before he could use it on him, before the man could put him down. Gleb screamed and cradled his hand but Oliver took no pity as he quickly finished him with the other table leg and scooped up his taser.

In a rush, men attacked him from the left and between the table leg and the taser their bodies swiftly littered the concrete, joining the growing number of bodies lying prone on the floor.

He'd expected this, everything but the gun, though the gun, a plain perk, would help aid his escape. Everything else, he'd planned down to the last detail. Kill Hedeon, and fight his way out. Oh, and yes, he'd expected the rush of men, expected the fight, expected using the table legs for weapons, expected taking the tasers from the guards and expected the fight, the rush of men.

Now, his eyes calmly scanned the crowd hunting Luke, the man with the dart gun, the one man who had a real chance of putting him down from a distance. 

He spotted Luke advancing, his dart gun drawn. Again he put the table leg under his arm and wasting no time, he pulled the pistol, and with no hesitation, he shot the dart gun, blowing it to pieces along with the man's hand. Luke screamed only for an instant before he shot Luke right between the eyes. Turning, he didn't even bother to watch the dead man fall as he moved toward the door, clearing a path as he went.

And he, yelled again, "Who is Bratva here? I'm looking for Bratva. Help a brother. I'm Bratva. And I need help. I ask only for safe passage to Anatoly Knyazev. "

The room had erupted into screaming people, rich people who wanted a little sport, wanted to watch the blood and gore from a safe distance, and who now found the world gone wild, insane, and the blood and gore way too close to them for comfort. The crowd rushed running people over, as people ran shouting and screaming out of the building.

But some men still moved toward him.

Three of his guards stood between him and the door, and he motioned them with his hands. "Come on," he shouted. "Hedeon's dead. And if you want to join him, I'll kill you too. I'll end this once and for all."

Ten men lay on the ground now, at least two of them dead, maybe more, but he no longer worried about them. The standing men were his real problem, the true threat.

His other guards backed off from him. Yes, each of them took a careful step back because they knew he'd do his best to kill them as he trained the lone gun on them, moving one to the other as he wished his back hugged the wall, knowing the danger still grave and made worse by him standing in the middle of the huge room.

The room continued in motion, wild eyed people screamed, rushing over each other, stepping on each other, as they streamed out the doors. And he thought, you shoot one and the rest of them will kill themselves trying to get away.

"Oliver." Ivan walked toward him, his voice deceivingly soft, his left hand now palm up, as he handed his taser off to the man walking beside him, making a large show of giving his taser up and then raising his other hand palm up.

"Stop," he growled the word.

But the man took a step in his direction.

"Remember what I promised you?" He demanded as he thought that this man, this monster, who'd bought him for Hedeon to carve on, who'd thrown him chained into a trunk, who'd enjoyed watching him suffer in this hell and who'd just lately taunted him with water while he hung dying of dehydration. Yes, his hands tightened on his weapons as he wished he could draw out this man's death as his finger tightened on the trigger.

"Easy, Oliver. You need to calm down, and we'll walk out of here together. The police will be here soon. You don't want to end up in prison in this country. You think Hedeon's prison was bad, you just don't know. Now let's talk about this. I can still clean this up." He swept a hand toward Hedeon's dead body. "I can fix this. We can work this out together. I'll help you. We can fix this together."

"No WE can't." He shook his head as he added, "This is over. I warned you. I promised you."

"I can make this worth your while. We could make lots of money with way you fight. I'll make you rich. Think of the money."

He aimed the pistol straight at Ivan's head. "I've been rich. NO. I'm walking out of here and this is over. I'm not going anywhere with you. But, I'll put you in hell with him, and believe me I'd like that. Now I'll give you more than you ever gave me. I'll give you one chance to walk away, my debt's paid in full, and I'd say that you're now unemployed, and unless you want to die with him, and you'll all walk away from me right now. And I mean RIGHT NOW."

Someone moved behind him and with no hesitation, he spun on his bloody heal and shot the man in his head, twisting back in time to see Ivan lunge for him.

Smoothly, he squeezed the trigger.

Ivan's body jerk back as the bullet entered right between his eyes in a clean head shot that took the back of the man's skull off and splattered his gray brain matter across the room.

He had just thought they had screamed before that. More people screamed and ran, breaking for the exits. The room had now emptied in a matter of minutes. And he hoped there were still three shots left in the clip for he had no time to check as he trained the gun on Peter, who held his unlit taser up.

Time froze as the two remaining guards stopped dead in their tracks.

These men knew him. They were his guards, and he'd already kicked their butts more than once. And they'd watched him try to kill Hedeon before, had watched him almost die repeatedly, and now had watched him make good on his promises and finally kill Hedeon in mere seconds and then take Luke and Ivan and several others out for good measure.

"Easy, Oliver. You're not worth it. I'm out of here. You're on your own," Peter said as he slowly took a step backward, as he held his hands up and turned and walked away.

"Yeah, like you said, my boss is dead." The man walked backward a few steps then he also turned and left him standing there holding a broken table leg and a gun with hopefully three bullets, his heart pounding like a drum, with no idea of what to do with himself and his sudden freedom.

Yet, still his brain engaged. Move, he told himself, for the police would soon show up and he wouldn't stay free since he'd just murdered not just one man, a powerful man, in front of a lot of witnesses, but several others. He needed to disappear and quickly and right now.

Lowering his weapon, he tried to breath, to calm down. But then a small group of men now approached him with the words, "You look for Bratva?"  

His hand jerked up, and he pointed his weapon, but a large bearded man simply pulled his shirt slowly down to show him a tattoo, "I'm Bratva. But you aren't for you don't bare the mark."

"Trust me I'm Bratva. Take me to Anatoly Knyazev, he'll vouch for me."

Several of the men laughed.

A large man beside the bearded man grinned and showed him his missing front teeth, with the words, "If you're not Bratva, Anatoly will do more than vouch for you. You'll be taking a dirt nap for a long time."

His friends laughed at the small joke.

"I'll take my chances."

"Then we're brothers. Come, I'll take you to Anatoly Knyazev. Perhaps you're worth something to him? Maybe he'll pay well for you?"

"Perhaps? But cross me and I'll kill you all."

The man laughed heartedly with the words, "You do that. Now, do you have a coat or shoes? The snow is heavy on the ground."

"No, but my shirt and socks are over there."

"We should go. Get his things." The bearded man ordered the man with the missing teeth. "We need to find you shoes, yah?"

The man frowned but he moved and returned quickly to throw his shirt and his dirty socks at him. Catching them, he stuffed the filthy socks in his pocket then said, "Give me a minute."

Returning to Hedeon's body, he breathed in the copper scent of blood, and for the first time in months, it wasn't his. For an instant, he considered taking the hated knife from the man's chest with him but the blade's handle seemed too unique, and would instantly tie him to the murder. So, instead using his shirt to cover his prints, he found the man's wallet and took the only the cash in it. He'd earned every damn dime of the strange looking currency, had paid for it with his actual blood.

Wiping the knife's handle, he gave one last vicious twist before he stood and spit on the dead man. Moving, he found Luke and Ivan's cash, knowing they no longer needed money. With no wasted movement, he pulled Luke's blood stained boots off and peeled his socks off too. 

Sitting on the cold floor, he silently jerked a large piece of glass from his left foot before he wrapped the dead man's sock tightly around his bleeding foot and stuffed his foot into an almost too big boot, lacing it tightly before pulling the other sock on and donning the other boot.

Jumping lightly to his feet, he stood tall, ignoring his throbbing foot, as he eyed the men hard, and the older man gave him a sharp nod. As he left the warehouse, hopefully left hell behind him, he kept the table legs, the taser, and the gun and he walked away in a dead man's pair of boots, leaving Hedeon and the others lifeless on the floor behind him, and for the first time in what seemed forever he might have a chance. But he'd cold bloodedly murdered at least four men in front of countless witnesses, making him a wanted man, and now to survive he needed to find Anatoly Knyazev and swiftly.

Outside the snow fell in large wet flakes, and he hugged his weapons close to him, as he followed the four men across the wet, snowy ground, thankful to be wearing shoes for the first time in months, even if he taken them from a dead man. 

He forced himself to slide into the middle of the back seat of a dark sedan. He tasted the danger as it lay heavy and copper tasting in his mouth, and he found it hard to breathe as two large men climbed in on each side of him. As soon as he settled against the cold leather seat he began to shiver almost uncontrollably as his heart pounded wildly.

"Vlad, give him your coat," ordered the gray headed man after he climbed into the driver's seat.

The large man beside him peeled off his warm coat and placed it on his shoulders, but he still shook, and his teeth wanted to chatter, making him clinch his teeth tightly. The gray headed man cranked the engine, and he sat in silence as he watched the snow fall onto the dark road through the headlights, knowing his future unclear. His hand lay heavy on the pistol and his finger rested on the trigger.

The man beside him shifted and he became past hyper aware. The engine hummed, the heater motor blew, the man beside him gave a small cough, and the man to his right in front inhaled sharply.

Leaning cautiously forward, he uttered the dark words to the old man driving, "If you cross me, I want you to know that I'll blow your spine out first."

"Then I'll wreck the car and maybe, you'll die too." His voice came out dark and harsh.

"Didn't you notice? I think today is as good of day to die as any. But don't worry I'll drag each of you to hell with me."

As he watched, the man visibility swallowed hard and paled.

"You're an enforcer? No?"

"I'm a man that you shouldn't cross. Yes. Now swear to me on your family's lives, from the youngest to the oldest that you're taking me to Anatoly Knyazev."

The man's hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel. "You don't know who you are making an enemy of here."

"Neither do you. Now give me your word or I swear I'll find them all, every last one of them. First, I'll blow your spine out, and afterwards, I'll kill everyone in this car and then your family."

"Sure of yourself aren't you?" The man, with the missing teeth, turned in his seat, a hand gun now pointed, pressed against his temple.

"I'm sure enough that I'll wipe every trace of your family from the face of this earth if you cross me. Now you tell your friend to put the gun away and you swear on your family's lives."

A small tic twitched in the man's face as he tightened his jaw and said, "Yegor, put your gun away. I'll swear it."

"On your family's lives?"

"I swear on my family's lives I will take you to Anatoly Knyazev."

The man slowly removed the pistol from his temple.

"Good. Now, stop the car."

"Stop the car?"

"Yes, and everyone but you gets out. Don't hesitate, just pull over." He pulled the trigger on the taser and the blue flame lit the inside of the car up.

The older man pulled the car over in front of a bar's flashing sign and the air in the car became heavy and hard to breathe.

And the men beside him kept silent, but he could feel their stress, feel their reluctance as the car rolled to stop, and he held the gun in one hand and the lit taser in the other.

"Tell them to get out, and I'll let them live." His words came out harsh.

The gray haired man barked, "Get out. Call Mark, he'll come and pick you up."

All three men hesitated but finally the first one slowly opened the door and climbed out into the cold and slammed his door, and each of them followed suit.

When the last one got out, he barked the word, "Drive."

"You can't stay awake forever." The man's tone came out bitter.

"No, but you'd be surprised what I can endure, what I've survived. Now take me to Anatoly Knyazev or pay the penalty for I'm a man of my word."

Something crashed and he jerked straight up. Bolting awake, he rolled right off the bed. His hands fisted, already in a fight stance, as he breathed hard, gasping as he realized the sun shone brightly and the night had disappeared. 

With quick steps, he crossed the room, jerking the door open. Felicity stood barefooted in a simple t-shirt and soft pj pants, standing in the middle of the kitchen with shards of pottery broken around her on the floor.

"Sorry, I woke you." And she smiled brightly at him and shrugged with the words, "Oops, bad me, I dropped my coffee cup.

He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Okay, don't move. I'll put my shoes on and sweep it up."

"I can do it. I'm hardly helpless."

"No, stay put. I'd hate to have to put stitches in your feet. And you wouldn't like it without Dig's aspirins."

She smothered her grin. "Okay, I'll be still."

Moving, he skirted the wreckage as he reached for his tennis shoes in the basket by the door, then putting them on, he moved and swept her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She asked as her arms encircled her neck, while she grinned.

"I'm still keeping you safe. That's my job you know." He carried her into the living room and placed her on the couch but didn't release her.

And she turned her face toward him and slowly kissed his cheek before she said, "Yes, I know. And I love you for it."

"You stay here and I'll sweep up the mess."

"Okay," she said softly, "Then maybe you can make breakfast?"

Her eyes caught his as he said, with a wink of his right eye. "I can do that. You working today?"

"I don't have to. Why?"

"I wondered if you wanted to go to the beach and fly a kite. I brought a large one the other day, and I've been wanting to try it out."

"You know how to fly a kite?"

"Yeah, it's been years but I do. Do you?"

"Never tried."

"Then maybe it's time. I'll teach you. It will be fun. We could have a picnic later. Stop and get some fried chicken maybe?"

He watched her catch her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "Okay, but I don't want to go swimming." She hesitated and his chest tightened as she added, "I'm still not you know?"

"What? Comfortable with the water?" He'd noted she'd avoided the water since her accident, but he'd never pushed her about it.

She gave a small shrug with the words, "Drowning hurts and it's an experience that I never want to repeat. Let's say it's off my bucket list for like forever."

"I'm very okay with not you not ever getting back in the water, ever, though I'm never against the swim suit."

"You're a guy, of course, you like the suit, but Oliver, I dream about it sometimes." Her voice had lowered, became almost small.

He wanted to tell her that he did too that he dreamed he couldn't find her, about how it panicked him, about waking and expecting to find her gone and him alone, but instead he said, "I understand. Now, let's go fly a kite, eat some food, and walk the beach together."

"Then, yeah, okay, let's go to the beach and fly a kite. I could use a happy day."

His smile beamed at her as he reached and touched her arm, touching to be sure she was real as he said, "Me too. Now, why don't you get dressed and I'll clean up and make breakfast. And then we'll go and fly that kite and make a day of it."

"Oliver, you know you and I just made happy plans for a normal day? It's weird but in a good weird, strange way."

"Okay, I like that. And happy is good. I truly like happy, Felicity. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"I do too. Yes, happy looks good on us." And she gave him a quick kiss then headed toward the bedroom throwing her words, "You've got goofy grin today."

"Maybe I do." Smiling, he turned to go sweep up the coffee cup mess, and his grin remained as he got dressed,  started breakfast and thought about how later he would do something he hadn't done in forever. He would dig out his green notebook, his journal, and he would write about this happy moment in his, in their, strange normal lives.

Yes, for once, instead of the bad, the horror, the terrible, he would write about being happy for who knew how long happy would last? 

But for right now happy is real, he thought, yes, for today, for now happy is real. And he found himself humming under his breath as he embraced the day.

#####OQ#####

Okay, what did you think? For now you know how Oliver planned his escape and killed his tormentors. I hope I tricked you and none of you saw it coming. And I hope you enjoyed this finale.

Hope to hear from you since I write for reviews. And as always my readers thanks for the read.

But now I ask a question. Do we move on to Oliver's Bravta past, continue on with the soccer players story or finish this story up?


	36. Chapter 36

First off, I realize it has taken me a long time to update this story and thanks to all my readers that have checked up on me! I promise my next update will be much faster this time. And yes, I have somewhat had writer's block with this story or rather the bridge builders have been on vacation. I am very glad  _Felicity's Fury_  is written, and that I am once more on track with this story.

To the people that have asked, don't worry I never plan to orphan or abandon this story for I still have stories to be told for this story. However, as in all things in life, to survive one must evolve and change for things to go forward. Therefore, this chapter and probably some of the next ones will be different than in the past because it is time to tell their stories. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think. Remember I write for reviews.

In addition, a friend suggested that I need trigger warnings about suicide talk and drug usage among other real life things, so read at your own risk because this chapter is going to get real.

Now here goes and as always thanks for the read.

Once upon an Olicity time . . . in a small town far, far away.

#######

Eli Rice, stood beside Phil's bed with his massive arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Clearly, he'd come from the docks since he could smell the shrimp boat on him and the man's anger radiated off him in waves. Oliver forced himself to extend his hand with the words, "Mr. Rice."

Phil's father hesitated and he could tell the man thought hard about refusing his hand shake before he finally slowly extended his hand.

"Coach," said Phil, sitting up in the bed, the grin on his face large. "Glad you stopped by. I'm supposed to get out of here today. Finally! Real clothes and food again."

"Good thing, too. You've missed more than enough school. God knows how you're going to make up the homework now." His father's sunburned face was hard.

"Phil's a smart young man. He'll pick up the homework, won't you Phil?"

"Sure, Coach. No problem."

"Good. Have you been cleared to come back to practice, yet?"

"I think Phil needs to take a few more days off." Eli's body language plainly said he'd dug in, that his mind was made up.

"Whatever Mae thinks is fine with me."

"I'm ready to get back to it, Dad. I'm bored out of my mind. And I need to keep busy."

"Have you given any more thought to going to rehab, Phil?"

Phil started to open his mouth then closed it when his father said, "My boy doesn't need rehab. He'll be fine now that he's clean. Won't you, Phil?"

Eli's words were sharp and didn't invite any disagreement, but he saw Phil bite his lip and how his hands tightened on the blanket as he said, "Yeah, Dad. I'm . . . a lot better now."

"I know you don't want Phil to miss anymore school, but he needs to learn better coping skills and rehab can help him with that."

"He's got a counselor. He can talk to her. We'll be seeing you, Coach Queen." Eli clearly had dismissed him.

"Yeah, thanks, Coach, I'll see you at practice later today."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough. Go home and rest some more."

"I'm tired of resting. I'm ready to get back in the game."

"Awesome, but I'll still see you tomorrow."

"Now if you'll excuse us," Eli said pointedly.

As he turned to leave Oliver hoped Phil would be able to stay sober.

#####OQ#####

Josh Peters' day had sucked. After listening to repeated wrong answers, he'd stupidly blurted out the right answer in Calculus class, gaining his teacher's unwanted attention, who, of course, wanted to know how he'd figured that problem out in his head, no less. 

Dumb move since it only made everyone make fun of him in the hallway after class, and he'd gotten slammed into the lockers by a crush of upperclassmen. 

Then Stan's girlfriend had thrown chocolate milk on him at lunch. 

Stan had been pissed, and he'd gotten into another fist fight with him and both of them managed to end up in the principal's office by 1:30 p.m., and he never even got to eat lunch and breakfast had been an energy drink.

The day'd gone downhill from there.

His Aunt refused to come to school for a meeting, claiming important meetings herself, and she would come if she could, if she had the time. T

Of course, she never had time for him and he was good with that.

But the principal, clearly pissed at him and at his Aunt, made him sit in the office DOING NOTHING and held him late, punished him by making him late for soccer practice.

Coach Queen been clearly pissed when he'd been late dressing out and practice had already started when he'd finally made it to the field. 

Sporting a huge bruise on his face, of course, Coach asked if he'd been fighting. And his off handed reply, "Well da," earned him a sharp look, and it hadn't mattered that he said, "Yes, Coach," since he'd already clearly pissed Coach off, and the man'd made everyone run extra.

The threats from the other team members were quick as he realized once again he'd found himself "Mr. Unpopularity" with the other team members. 

Jordan, who normally ignored him, had forcefully body slammed him into the lockers after practice, and if Coach hadn't walked in the locker room when he did, he would have been in his second fist fight of the day as the rage in him threatened to overflow.

He'd hurried after practice but to top the day off, he'd been late once again to pick up his brother Will from aftercare, and they'd already called his Aunt when he'd arrived. 

Now he knew he was in real trouble as he rode up to his Aunt's townhouse. Unable to help it, he'd began to shake a little as he kicked the skateboard up, and noted his Aunt Janie's SUV in the driveway. Leaning the skateboard against the wall beside the step, he took a large breath and steeled himself, knowing his body already ached and if he wasn't hungry, thirsty and about broke, he'd just ride away.

His Aunt had a thing about locking the door. She had OCD about it. If you came in after six, she'd locked all doors for the night and since it was a little past six now, he knocked. Waiting, he wondered if she would let him in tonight. Funny but he kind of hoped she wouldn't open the door, as he sighed thinking she would at least make him wait before she let him in.

Unexpectedly, the front door opened, and his Aunt reached and grabbed him by the hair and hauled him into the house. Her face strained looked pinched and unhappy, as she slammed the door behind him. Before he knew what happened, she body slammed him several times against the hard door, making him see stars as his head connected solidly with the metal door.

"Seriously! How can you be this stupid? Your grades are in the toliet AGAIN." She stood there in her skirt and flowery blouse, looking very much like a sweet librarian, as she waved a piece of paper under his nose. He tried to focus his eyes as she pulled hard on his hair. 

Yeah, he'd learn quickly that looks were deceiving, and his aunt was anything but sweet. Pushing hard against her, he tried to jerk out of her grasp, attempting to get loose to put the couch between him and her, knowing from experience that there was safety in distance.

But, his Aunt was a large woman and strong, and she held on and shook him, rattling his teeth as she slapped him repeatedly, making him cry out. 

Unable to stop her, he could do nothing as she threw him bodily across the room, bouncing him off the bar as she moved in for the kill, kicking him repeatedly. Balling up in the floor, he protected his head with his arms, while his ribs, legs and arms took a real beating and his little sister and brother screamed at her to stop.

Fuck me, he thought, knowing she'd gotten his progress report, and he was currently flunking pretty much everything. On top of the rest of his day, he wondered if she was going to beat him to death this time and everything became kind of became surreal. It was as if he'd stepped back and was watching her kick him.

"Young man, what do you have to say for yourself this time?"

He wanted to talk but he couldn't as she stopped kicking, waiting on his answer and when he didn't answer, she kicked him harder, and he thought sure she'd cracked his ribs while the pain ripped through his left side.

His sister screamed and pulled on his aunt's large arm, as she cried out, "Stop it. Stop hitting him right now. I swear if you don't stop, I'LL CALL 911 this time."

But his Aunt just pushed Ruby backward, knocking her down, then she jerked him up and slapped him hard in his already bruised face and his blood flew, as she screamed at him, "Answer me! You're just like your mother. Nothing but a little wimp."

His nose ran blood down into his mouth and he spat the words, "What do you want me to say? I suck at school. I'm almost sixteen, I think I should quit and get my GED and be done with this stupid school. And I HATE YOU!"

"What am I going to do with you? You remind me of HER! Disrespectful, lazy, flighty, worthless." She punctuated her words by gut punching him, and he doubled over, wanting to puke. His ears were roaring as she threw him into a heap on the floor with the words, "I swear if you didn't belong to MY sister I'd give you to foster care, and they could have you. You're useless. Nothing but trouble. I don't know why I waste my time on you. All you do is make me look bad. Why don't you understand that all you have to do is your job. Twice today, I've gotten phone calls because you didn't do your job! Don't you know that people talk?"

She started kicking him again, and he attempted to crawl away but she drug him back with the words, "I can't handle this. And on top of your terrible grades, you've been fighting again. AGAIN. You like fighting in school, Josh, let me show what happens to you when you make me look bad, when you make me talk to your principal."

His sister was crying and pleading now. "Please stop hitting him, Aunt Janie. PLEASE. He didn't mean to get in trouble."

"You shut up or you're next." She pointed at his sister.

Jerking him up, she shook him again and then threw him crashing into the solid wooden coffee table, and he managed to find his feet and holding his left side, he put the kitchen counter between him and her before she killed him.

He had to rally or die. 

Grabbing a knife from the block on the counter, he pointed it at her, "Don't you dare touch her. And that's all you care about. Director of the public library can't have a messed up nephew. Call them! Please call them. Maybe they won't beat me up on a regular basis. Do you want me to look up the number, though I'd bet you already have it programmed in your phone. Do it I dare you."

"Put the knife down or I'll have you arrested."

He wiped the blood running out of his nose and slung his blood to the floor. And he wanted to kill her, wanted to make her bleed, but he knew she was strong, powerful in this small town, and he'd pay for it, since he'd tried to take her in the past, and if he stabbed her there'd be no going back.

He'd go to jail.

His life would be OVER, and he'd never have a chance to live, and the two years he had left before his freedom, before he could legally walk away, would turn to twenty to life.

Will, still his mother's baby, heaven help him because he had been too little to remember, hid behind the easy chair in the living room, sobbing loudly and no doubt rocking and sucking his thumb at six, while his crying sister tried to calm him with the words, "Shh, it's going to be alright. I promise. Shh."

Will's cries hurt his heart but he said, "Stop lying to him, Ruby. It's never going to be alright ever again."

Unable to stop his hand, he swept his Aunt's glass whatnots off the counter top and the sound of breaking glass exploded, no echoed, through the room.

"You'll pay for that. And you'll clean that up right now."

"I've already paid with my blood, and you can beat me to death, and I won't clean it up."

Ruby got between them. "Stop it. Both of you. Josh, please think. Put the knife down. Please Aunt Janie, no more. I don't want to call 911 on you but if you hurt him again. I promise I'll call them. And I'll tell. I'll tell them everything."

"You wouldn't dare unless you want a new place to live. Josh, go to your room. I'll deal with you after I teach your sister some manners."

"I'm done and you touch either one of them and I'll turn you in for abuse. I'll burn you at the stake just like the witch you are. And you can kiss that powerful job of yours good bye. Believe me, I'll do it. Hit me again, and I'll go into foster care just to burn you."

"Josh, please," his sister, Ruby, pleaded, "Don't, you know they'll split us up."

"Even split up. You'd be safer and so would Will. I'll be okay, alone. I'm getting better at it all the time."

His Aunt screamed, "You're grounded. Give me your phone. Hand it over. I can't believe what a spoiled brat my bitch sister, Raven, raised. She'd be ashamed of you. You're just like that idiot she married, the one who killed her."

Josh inhaled sharply, his stomach clenching tightly and he threw the knife into the sink before he used it, but he couldn't stop the words, "You bitch. My mother was worth three times what you are. Don't you dirty her name by saying it. I can't stand it. And my father was a genius, he worked for Google. How dare you? I know you're drawing a huge check on each of us. Don't act like you're not. I get that's the only reason we're here, that the government's paying you. But, I still don't know why you just didn't leave us with Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad and draw the check."

"Those queers were not your relatives. I'm your only living true blood relative and the judge awarded you to me. I own you, all of you."

"We're people not property and those queers have been married years. And they're our godparents." He screamed, "Unlike you they wanted us. They loved us, knew us. You were never related to us. I never even got a birthday card from you or a call during one of my birthday parties. You've made it plain that you hated my MOM! You didn't even call during the holidays. You never called. I never heard your name until Mom and Dad died. Where have you been my entire life? Oh, yeah, not there. You never showed up until you found out we were worth a check."

"How dare YOU!"

His Aunt moved quick to be that large. She shoved Ruby to the side and her hand lashed out and slapped his face hard, snapping his head back and busting his lips against his teeth and the sound echoed through the room as he tasted blood and spat on the floor. 

Ruby bounced up, trying to get between them again screaming for them to stop.

Shutting his eyes an instant, he embraced the sting, his back rigid. He ached to hit her back, wanted to beat her this time but instead, with his eyes watering, he turned and ran. Managing to undo the lock on the back door, he and escaped, slamming the back door so hard that the windows beside the door rattled forcefully behind him.

"And don't come back. I'm locking you OUT." His Aunt yelled after him. "Sleep on the street."

"It's safer there and it wouldn't be the first time." He threw the words over his shoulder as he rounded the townhouse and grabbed his skateboard up and ran.

Footsteps followed him, pounding the pavement, and he jerked his head around, and saw his sister, Ruby running up behind him, her short blonde hair plastered flat against her head, her breath coming in gasps, as she pulled on his sleeve and spun him around to face her with the words, "Josh, please, give me your phone. I'm sorry but she says I can't come back without it."

"Take it. Here. Now hurry back or she'll beat you up and lock you out too."

"Look, I'm sorry she's mean to you. But if you give her time to cool down it'll be alright. Come back later and I'll let you in after she goes to sleep."

"Great and I can sleep under the bed, so she can't beat me in my sleep. I should be grateful she too big to crawl under the bed and get me. Thanks but no thanks. I'm safer out here on the street."

His sister refused to look at him for a minute, both of them remembering the night his Aunt had beat him with a metal coat hanger. He'd been asleep one second and she'd been beating the hell out of him the next. Yes, both of them knew it wasn't safe for him to sleep in his room at his Aunt's house.

"Josh, please give her a break. Get your grades up. Stop getting in trouble and maybe she'll treat you better. You have to know she doesn't know what to do with us."

"You're wrong. Yes, she does. Open your eyes, Ruby; she hits me more and more. I'm a mass of bruises, and I can't do anything right. Call child protective services. I want you to. Use my phone, and she can blame me. Call 911. Go into foster care. Protect Will." He jerked away from her with the words, "And forget about me."

"No, please don't talk like that. I know you're hurt but don't you dare do something stupid. No more trouble. PLEASE, get yourself together. And stop fighting in school. If you keep it up you're going to end up in jail. They're going to lock your smart ass away."

"You do realize, I'd never even been in a fight until we moved here?"

"I know that, but we have to stay together. Mom and Dad would want us to stay together."

"They gave up any say when they died without a will. Damn Mom and Dad for doing that to us."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. They died on us and didn't make sure we went to their friends instead of mom's sister. They didn't love us enough to look out for us, to make sure she didn't end up with us. They didn't keep us safe."

"That's not true. Don't be an idiot! They didn't want to die. It was a quick business trip, a weekend. They meant to come back, to be back Sunday night and pick us up from Uncle Bill's. They thought they still had lots of time."

"Well, they didn't and they never came back. And maybe I won't come back either. I love you. Tell Will I love him too. Give him my tablet and you can have my laptop."

"Don't you dare talk like that! Use that genius brain of yours to figure out Will and I still need you. You can't give up. Please, just don't screw up again because you're going to end up in jail or in a box."

He pulled away from her. "Maybe, I need to be in jail or somewhere else. Now leave me alone, Ruby. Just go back to the bitch and leave me alone. And promise me, if she touches either of you that you'll call 911."

"Josh! Please! Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to act like this. And neither would Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad."

"Would you get it. Process it. Mom and Dad are dead. They don't care about any of us anymore, and they didn't care about us enough to take care of us if they died or we'd be living somewhere else. And forget about Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad. They aren't coming for us. If they were coming to save us, they'd have been here by now. Now, I just wish you'd stop talking about them. I'm trying to forget them. NOW PROMISE ME you'll call if she hits either of you."

"NO! Listen to me. You need to come home, and we need to remember them, Josh."

"I don't have a home anymore. It's her house, not my home, and I'm done remembering any of them. Leave me alone, Ruby. I can't do this anymore."

And he threw the skateboard down to the pavement and rode swiftly away from her, with his heart aching.

"Josh, come back!" She screamed after him.

But he never looked back as he held himself upright nursing his aching ribs as he fought the urge to cry.

#####OQ#####

Pulling the old fence back, he ignored the 'NO TRESPASSING' and the large 'CONDEMNED' sign. He'd been coming here for months and no one cared.

The old fish cannery was an awesome place to skateboard, a decent place to crash, and the cops hadn't shown up to kick him out or arrest him. The large roof was wavy and gave him a good place to practice his skateboarding and no one'd ever bothered him.

The place was just about perfect.

But then nothing was perfect.

He understood that now.

But, he could skateboard and then sleep in one of the abandon offices, since his Aunt enjoyed beating him up then locking him out. Even if the cannery was scorching hot at night, with no air and no power, he knew he could handle it, since he'd started to sleep here on a semi-regular basis.

Carefully, not wanting to jar himself, he strapped the skateboard to him with his belt, rolled his pants' waistband over so his pants didn't fall down and then slowly climbed the fire escape ladder to the roof. 

She'd done a real number on him this time and it almost hurt to breath. Walking across the wavy roof, he carefully stepped to the right, skirting a weak spot, a small hole in the roof that frankly looked dangerous. 

Hunkering down, he sat on the ledge of the building, looking down at the alley two stories down and thought about how easy it would be just to push off the edge and end this.

Peeling his t-shirt up, he checked the new damage to his already bruised ribs. The purple bruising on his left side already massive, it looked bad as he took in the yellow, green or purple bruises from the repeated times she'd hit him before. And he thought that damn, he'd have to wear long sleeves and jeans to cover the marks and it was too hot for that.

Exhaling sharply, he lowered the t-shirt knowing looking didn't make him heal any sooner, and he wished for a hydo. Heck, he could take two pain pills right now and it probably wouldn't take the edge off.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out one of the two joints he'd scored earlier this morning. Hunting numb, hunting relief from the pain, he carefully lit the joint, though he had to avoid his split lip as he inhaled deeply. Holding the smoke in as long he could, he exhaled and coughed and had to hold his aching chest. As soon as he could breathe again, he hit the joint hard as his stomach bottomed out.

His mind turned over the idea of how easy it would be to just lean forward and end his pain. He imaged how he would finally no longer disappoint anyone. Just think, he told himself, no more coping with a stupid school or bullies, no more having to pick up and babysit his whiny little brother, Will, or deal with his forever hopeful sister, Ruby, no more soccer practice with his asshole, badass, unforgiving Coach Queen, no more probation and flunking drug tests which meant more probation, and then maybe his Aunt would be happy because he'd be gone, though the thought that his sister or little brother would become her punching bag instead of him, crossed his mind.

Unable to help himself, he judged the distance and did the math. He ran the formula g =  _-9.81 m/s_ ^2 through his mind, which told him how to multiply the acceleration of gravity by the amount of time it would take to fall. He judged three seconds before he would hit the hard concrete and his mind churned out the answer that no he probably wouldn't die from the fall. The distance was not enough to truly kill him, and the math made him decide that he'd probably just break his legs, or his back, or his neck and he'd end up crippled, maybe in a wheel chair, paralyzed.

"Fuck that," he said out loud, then tasted blood as his busted lip bled again. Damn his lip hurt. Normally, she never hit his face, but since he'd already been in a fight today would anyone truly remember if his lip was busted or not.

He hit the joint and sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Sniffing, he thought about how he couldn't remember his mom and dad's faces anymore and it'd only been about a year. Exhaling, he blew the smoke out in a long puff then coughed again and cradled his ribs.

Strangely, but about a year ago, he'd never hit anyone and no one had ever hit him. He didn't even remember his parents even yelling at each other let alone hitting each other. They'd been the lovey, touchy kind of couple. He remembered their hand holding and how they'd kissed each other goodbye, and how they'd smiled at each other. Somehow, it seemed fitting that they'd died together since he couldn't image one of them without the other one.

His throat felt raw as thought about how he'd never dreamed that he'd miss the private math/science school for the gifted he'd attended because he used to think what a drag it was. Now, he would do anything to go back in time.

At that school, he'd worked at his own pace, and he'd already pasted college trigonometry and had been working his way through college calculus, while writing advanced computer code. No, he hadn't had a clue as to how good his life had been until that day a cop and a social worker arrived at his Uncle Bill and Uncle Chad's house, instead of his parents.

The three of them had been staying with his godparents while his parents flew to LA to do some business. He remembered he'd been in the pool playing with Will and Ruby, just a stupid kid, doing foolish kid stuff when his Uncle Chad had called for them to come in with tears in his eyes.

No, he'd thought, over and over as the cop said in a monotone voice how his father's single engine airplane had malfunctioned, and how the plane had not made the airport but had crashed and blown up on impact.

Yes, in instant not only had he lost both of his parents but his entire world had exploded in a fiery ball of hell with them.

One second he'd been fourteen, wealthy, a little pudgy and not even aware how much he'd loved his school, loved hanging with other geeks, other gifted students, teens like him who didn't fit in regular schools. He'd been on top of the world with a bright girlfriend and already had computer companies looking at him. He'd loved the beach, surfing and his life then the next second his parents were dead, and they'd left no will, and he and his siblings had become instant wards of the state.

His uncles had been more than willing to adopt them, and in those first weeks, the state had even placed them with them but then his damn Aunt Janie had stepped up. The judge had swiftly taken the side of his mother's half-sister, and he'd just as quickly found himself living in a small town where he'd rapidly discovered that NO ONE liked him.

He could have taught the advanced calculus class at this school, but he'd learned speedily that no one liked the smart kid. They'd made fun of him because he was smart. Hell, in the beginning they'd beat him up because he was smart. 

And no, he didn't just hurt the curve, he murdered the curve, and he'd learned to dumb it way down or live with black eyes and a bunch of guys and probably girls who wanted to beat him up on a daily basis. But even after he'd learned to keep his brains to himself, his classmates never forgot or forgave that he'd been smart to begin with.

Self-preservation had surfaced, along with his rage and he'd learned how to fight, and he went from being the smart kid, to the kid with none of the right answers who slept through classes. He figured out quickly that his Aunt didn't lock up her prescription pills or her purse and the first time he'd smoked pot, he found something that helped numb his ever present pain. 

His days became a haze of getting high and getting by. And it hadn't taken long for his Aunt to start hitting him on a regular basis. The bad thing was that he felt he deserved it. Strangely, he felt better inside for a while after she hit him.

Senselessly, he actually covered for her, lied to keep children's protective services out of their equation. Carefully, he hid the bruises, and he dropped weight like crazy as he turned his lunch money into drugs.

But no one caught on as he refused to dress out in PE and the teacher had just given up and let him sit on the sidelines in his large baggy clothes. He went to soccer practice almost late and dressed out in the bathroom stall, and he left the same way because pulling his shirt off would show the bruises, and if someone did see a bruise, he had a pat answer. "I fell off of my board. It happens."

And he'd shrug, selling the act.

Hell, even he almost believed the lie now.

A little over a year had passed since he'd effortlessly stripped his shirt off and surfed the waves, since he'd kissed a girl because no one here liked him, and he'd always be the outsider. He stood on the fringes and refused to hang with the retards, which left him totally alone.

Lunch became the worst part of the school day. If he had the money and he went to the café, he had no one to sit with. A loner lost among the masses. And the 'NO BULLING' sign on the door meant nothing in the real teenage life, it just meant they were more crafty about how they did it.

He chose most of the time to go through the lunch line and grab something cheap then spend the rest of the time working his board in the parking lot to keep them from picking on him, and it kept the fights at bay. But days like today, he couldn't avoid another fight after Stan's bitch girlfriend had slung chocolate milk on him and once again, he'd been forced to bust Stan's head.

Why Stan hated him and constantly gave him a hard time was a mystery. And Stan wasn't the only one that disliked him. He just pretended not to hear them laugh, not to hear their jokes about his hair, his clothes and his brain.

But he heard and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. His knuckles ached. They were beat up and bruised but at least he could fight back now, so most of the time the bullies left him alone. 

And he'd learned early on to eat pain pills and smoke pot to control his pain, but even high, he still remembered to ace the tests, and his teachers passed him on. Unfortunately, every time progress reports came out his Aunt Janie truly beat him up. Damn this school, he couldn't keep her from knowing about his grades, since they put everything on-line and then called and texted when grades came out. Yet, he couldn't make himself pull his grades up either, couldn't force himself to do their stupid busy work.

Once more, he hit the joint then put it out, wrapping the roach in a small piece of paper beside his last joint, before he stuffed it in his pocket for later. Standing, he stepped back from the ledge. Pulling his wallet out, he counted his money.

His bitch Aunt drew over a grand just off of him every month, but she rarely let him have any pocket money. If he was lucky he saw twenty a month, though he had figured out how to steal a few dollars here and there out of her purse. Most of his money came from skipping lunch and starving, though he knew he was getting too thin. He'd tightened his belt again today. But, he had a couple bucks and some change and he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket and wished he had his phone to check the time.

Instead, he looked at the sky and the shadows on the ground and figured the time about seven or eight.

He realized he had a little time to kill before he would have to go and grab something to eat off of the dollar menu, so he could be settled in before curfew. Heaven knew the last place he wanted to spend the night again was juvy, since they'd search him, take his street clothes and someone would see the marks.

The pain from his ribs had subsided somewhat and grabbing his board, he kicked off. He was in the zone, high and flying on his board, using some ramps he'd set up to do some small jumps, which he quickly realized his ribs weren't up for.

Doubling over, he cradled his ribs when he heard the hated name, "Callie!" and jerked his head up to see Stan and Jordan standing on his roof top.

They'd must have just climbed the fire escape, since they still stood by the ladder.

He sighed and thought would this terrible day ever end?

Bracing himself, he popped the board up hard with his foot and into his hands. He wasn't above using a weapon and the fact that there were two of them told him it was about to get real.

His stomach clenched and he narrowed his eyes.

And as normal when it came to fighting, the anger inside him won and he started it.

Yes, he liked to draw first blood.

"Seriously. You come looking for me? Bitch, wasn't one ass whipping today enough for you? Guess I need to teach you a lesson."

"I brought a friend this time, and we thought you might like your smart ass whipped today, Callie."

"Glad to see you both. I'm going to enjoy whipping both of your asses. Hell, I wish you'd brought more than two of you."

He didn't wait, didn't hesitate, even if he was already hurt, he didn't care.

No, he welcomed the pain as he attacked them with his board. Knocking Stan to the ground, he fought hard as Jordan jumped in and the three of them became a mass of arms and legs, and he lost his board as they rolled across the roof pounding each other savagely, like only teens with no thought of the future can do.

Over and over they rolled, grunting and hitting each other.

A loud crack, not unlike thunder, burst the air and the world turned upside down as the roof disappeared beneath their weight.

In a wild rush, free falling, his body solidly crashing through rotten rafters that broke beneath his body's weight and knocked the air forcefully from his lungs, punching him, slamming his body as together they fell through the roof.

United the three of them tumbled, arms and legs everywhere until he slammed in a jumbled heap with a solid slap into darkness, and came to a crashing stop on something hard and unforgiving.

If he could have groaned, he would have, but the fall had knocked the air from his lungs, and he struggled to even grab his breath as the three of them lay gasping in a topsy-turvy heap, with him on bottom being crushed.

A split second later, debris rained down to bury them, and he could do nothing but experience the painful moment as the collapsing roof buried them alive.

Jordan groaned on top of him but then what had to be a major portion of the roof gave way and poured down on them. It seemed like it would never stop, and Jordan's body on top of his became overwhelming, and he realized the debris weighed deep on top of them, and he struggled to breathe at all.

The dust had barely settled as he pushed and managed to shove Jordan somewhat off of him just as the ground beneath him gave way again, with another loud crack below him, he was once again free falling.

Pain tore, ripped swiftly through his right forearm as lumber and rubbish plummeted down and his body was pushed and shoved around like a feather in the breeze as what felt like the entire building rained down on him burying him in debris.

Finally, silence reigned and someone groaned. Managing to open his eyes, he realized the sound came from him as he spit dirt or something like it from his dry mouth. And he wondered how long he'd been out since he could see the dark sky with stars twinkling above him though the gaping hole in what used to be the roof.

He took in the solid walls surrounding them as he tried to move his head. The room seemed small about eight by twelve. No windows and a metal looking door that he remembered from exploring the building that was probably locked up tight since he'd never been in this room, and he'd been in every other one of them that opened. 

Yes, it looked like he'd fallen into a storage room of some type.

"Callie! Callie! Damn it, okay, Josh, or Jordan. I hear one of you moaning. Come on one of you, anyone, just someone please, answer me. I'm trapped. I can't move. I'm buried. It's hard to breath. Please, Jordan, Josh, come on, where are you? Talk to me!" Stan's frightened voice was the first thing he heard, along with a small sob.

Josh groaned the words, "Stan, I'm over here. I'm buried too. Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, but thank god, you're alive. I swear it's been hours and no one would answer me. I was afraid both of you were gone. Jordan hasn't said a word. I think he's dead."

"Can you reach your phone?" Josh asked as he tested the weight of debris and it didn't move. "I can move a little bit."

And he managed to drag his body forward a bit out of the rubble.

"Mine's dead. It's at home. And, I think my leg's broken. It hurts really bad. I'm lying on it and seems like it's at a weird angle. We're going to die down here, aren't we? Please, I don't want to die down here. HELP!" Stan began to scream and cry.

"Stan, don't panic. Come on man, calm down. I can move a little, and with time I think I can dig out and go get help. But you need to calm down. I doubt anyone can hear you. So stop yelling, it will only make you weaker quicker and use up more oxygen."

Jordan chose this time to moan softly, somewhere on his left and said weakly, "Awesome idea, guys, because Stan you're hurting my head, and we both know you are prone to panic so chill."

"I'm buried in my own grave. I think I have the right to panic."

"Stan, you always panic. Now, get a grip, I'm having trouble breathing right now too. Do you think one of you could help a guy out of this shit? I'm almost completely buried. Maybe get this beam off my chest for starters."

"Can you move, Jordan?" He wiggled a little and got his left arm moving a bit.

"No, I've got a beam in the middle of my chest and my legs are trapped. Something's wrong with my legs. I'm not going anywhere soon."

"Do you have your phone with you?"

"Yeah, but I can't reach it. Tried that already. My arms are buried too. Man this sucks big time. And I think I'm bleeding too. My legs feel wet."

"Can you move your toes?"

"Maybe, yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure I can feel my feet. Stuff moves when I move my feet."

"Well that means you haven't broken your back."

"Good to know. Okay brains, think our way out of this one."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? You know it's true. You're smarter than the rest of us. The entire school knows it. And it's your fault this happened."

"Me? No way! You're the ones that followed me looking to beat me up. I didn't come looking for you. And it was your extra weight that collapsed the roof in the first place. You're the ones that caused this. If you'd just let it go, left me alone then this wouldn't have happened. You came looking for trouble and you found it. "

"Well, if you'd stop flirting with my girlfriend, we wouldn't have a problem."

He grunted as he managed to push some debris off of him and get his unhurt arm free. "Seriously, Stan, you've been picking fights with me over Megan. She doesn't even like me. She slung chocolate milk on me in the café today and embarrassed me in front of everyone. I'm still sticky. Now I want both of you to try to work one of your hands out."

"My face is buried. It's scary. Seems like I can't get enough air. And I have a head ache from hell."

"Then don't move your head since you can breathe right now. Move too much and you might suffocate." He didn't mention that Stan probably wasn't getting enough oxygen and was probably getting too much carbon dioxide. 

Trapped, Stan contaminated his own air supply every time he exhaled, which would quickly lead to carbon dioxide buildup in his blood. He'd learned about that at ten, when he'd started working on his Open Water Diver certification. But he couldn't remember how long Stan had before he would fall unconscious and die. But he knew Stan would eventually die if he didn't get him dug out.

"I can move my hand a little. And she dumped melted ice cream on me just before we started dating."

"I think she thinks it's foreplay," Jordan said dryly.

"No way. So you think she's about to dump you for me? That's not happening. Is your hand anywhere near your face?"

"I don't think so. And yeah, I know she's looking at you."

"I swear she isn't looking at me. Just be still, Stan. I'm making some head way here, and I'll come and dig you out. And right now all I can think about is you moving and smothering to death under the debris."

Stan groaned then said, "Did you have to tell me that?"

"To be so smart, you're past stupid, Callie," said Jordan with a loud groan. "All the girls at school think you're cool with your long blonde hair and your brains and your stupid skateboard tricks. Why do you think none of us guys like you? If you didn't act so uppity, you could have any girl at school. They all want you."

Josh puzzled that as he worked trying to free himself, but he couldn't quite lift the boards off his chest even though he'd freed his upper body and for a while everyone was quiet.

"Callie, are you awake?" Stan finally said.

"No, but Josh is. I don't like that nickname. Stop using it."

"Alright, Josh. Please tell me you're making headway because it's really hard to breathe and it's dark under here. I'm scared, Josh. Please hurry."

"I have my upper body out but I'm still trapped. Jordan, how are you doing?" He reached out for a long board that he could just barely reach.

No answer.

"Maybe he's asleep?" Stan said quietly.

Or unconscious, he thought as he tried for that board again and raked his fingertips across it.

"Jordan?"

"I'm here Stan, just resting. It's okay." Jordan said with a weak voice.

"Well I wish someone would talk."

"Why should I talk? I noted that no one really cares about what I have to say." He lunged and finally caught the board as his chest complained, and he groaned out loud.

"Josh, did you dad really work for Microsoft?" Jordan asked.

"No. Google."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, when you say Google look up X. Well, my dad helped write that program."

"Wow, that's awesome. Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" Jordan asked.

"Why so people could hate me more because my dead dad was smart?"

"Okay, I deserve that. We haven't been very nice to you. But you're different from us."

"Which makes me bad news."

"Maybe. Guess we really never gave you a chance to get to know you. Well right now, I've got some time to kill. I can't sleep and my legs hurt. Talk to me. Help pass the time I have left. We're all the same right now. And I have to talk, it's who I am. I already know everything about Stan since I've known him since I was four, and Stan was afraid of his own shadow."

"So you protected him?" He tried to position the board under the beam trapping him and using it for leverage he groaned as the board moved the beam but then it snapped, dropping the beam back on him with a thud and making him cry out.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"I was not scared of my shadow but I'm scared right now," said Stan. "What if no one finds us before it's too late, till we're bones and rotting?"

"Look, I'm not dying in this tiny room and neither are the rest of you." Josh said the words strongly, and he meant them.

"You can't be sure of that Josh. I'm bleeding to death over here."

"If you were bleeding that bad you'd already be dead." Josh reached for another board but it was too far away.

Stan almost laughed as he said, "Well that's a cheery thought. Come on Jordan. Josh is going to figure this out. We're going to get out of this. Think about Lisa."

"Shut up about her. I haven't seen her in months. Her mom doesn't want me around." And he groaned and gave a tiny whimper.

"Who's Lisa?" He stretched his hand out trying to snag another board that was just out of his reach and his body complained.

"His two-year-old daughter."

"Shut up, Stan."

"You've got a baby?"

"No, she's a toddler. And I haven't seen her in a long time. Her mom's got a new guy, and she asked me to step back, to leave them alone."

"But she's yours. You're her dad. She should know you."

"I'm not a good influence. I've been in a lot of trouble. And I can't afford support."

"Come on, Jordan, you want to talk then tell me what you did to get in trouble?" Again he reached for that board and his chest complained wildly.

"Stupid stuff. Repeatedly."

"If you don't tell. I will."

"You better shut your mouth, Stan. I know what you did too."

"Sure I'll shut up, just as soon as you get up and come over here and make me."

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts to laugh. Okay, I got in trouble for breaking and entering, truancy, disorderly conduct, public drunk, and three times I've resisted arrest."

"Are you serious? And you're only sixteen?"

"Jordan's a runner." Stan said with a small laugh. "Hey don't make me laugh. It's hard enough to breath in this rubble now. I don't have much space."

"Yeah, I noticed you're a runner at soccer practice since you were stupid and attacked Coach, and he's had you running for days."

"Trust me to listen to one of Scott's stupid ideas. We never thought Coach was a bad ass but trust me he was like a fracking ninja. I mean he not just caught the pipe I swung at him, he took it away from me and thumped me with it too. And then Scott ran like a damn coward. But it was you that got everyone an extra mile today."

"Well, Coach, won't put up with no shit. Finally," he said as he managed to pull the longer board toward him. Awkwardly, left handed, he maneuvered the board down his body and then using the board for leverage, he succeeded in pulling his legs out a tiny amount at a time, but it was a slow progress and tiring and against his will, he took a break and must of nodded off.

Startling awake he fought the rubble, and experienced feeling trapped as he came back to himself.

"Jordan, Stan?"

Nothing. "Come on guys talk. Jordan! Stan!"

"I'm still here, Josh. The day is breaking," Jordan said quietly, weakly, "Josh, can you promise me something."

"Okay, what?"

"Tell my little girl that I did love her. That's why I stayed away because I loved her and the other guy was a better daddy than me. Tell her I didn't want to be bad but I played the hand I was dealt."

"Don't talk like that," Josh said as his chest contracted realizing the Jordan was giving up. "I'm almost out now. You can tell her yourself that you love her."

"I don't think so. I'm light headed. My dad bled out you know? He was a dealer, and he got shot in a drive by and bled out. I was there. Watched it. And he told me he was light headed and cold right before he died. And right now, I understand."

"Don't talk like that. I'm going to get us out of here. Jordan, focus. You're still here. Just hold on. I'm almost out. Stan?"

"He hasn't talked in a long time."

Finally, he managed to use his good hand on the long board and thrust it beneath the corner of the beam trapping him and using leverage, he accomplished lifting the heavy beam up enough he could drag himself out of the building's wreckage.

The sun had been up a long time before he was totally free and his arm ached like a raging toothache as he finally sat up. Agonizingly, he slowly pulled his belt out it's loops and using it he stabilized his broken forearm by looping the belt over his head and then using his good arm to put his useless arm into the loop before giving a deep sigh as the throbbing eased as he eyed his surroundings taking in the small room.

"Josh? Josh? Are you there? What's wrong?" Stan cried out.

He didn't want to tell Stan that they were trapped inside what seemed a storage room. "Look, I'm free. Let me check on Jordan. He hasn't said anything in a long time. I'm coming to help you though, just be still a few more minutes."

"Yes, check on him. He's been quiet a long time."

He couldn't help it, first he walked over to the steel door and tried to turn the handle. Just as he'd feared the door was locked tight. Sighing, he turned and managed to find Jordan's dark head sticking up from the wreckage, and he checked the teen's pulse at his neck. "Stan, Jordan's lucky since he'd landed with his face out of the debris but he seems unconscious right now."

"Okay, then please, dig me out, Josh. I can barely breathe under all this."

"I'm coming!"

Stan was buried deep in debris and it took a while to dig him out, especially with a broken right arm and trying to go slow, so he didn't smother Stan. At the end, he dug frantically one handed as the pile collapsed and smothered Stan and the teen gasp uncontrollably until he finally managed to uncover his face before it was too late.

Never in his life had he been happier to see Stan's skinny face and his slight toothy grin.

"Thanks, Josh, I never knew how much I took breathing for granted until I found myself buried alive."

Pulling more debris away from Stan's face, the teen breathed deeply and said, "Wow, that's much better. Look I'm sorry, Josh! I never meant for this to happen."

He had to look away before he said, "Me either. Hold on and I'll dig you out."

Another couple of hours pasted and using his long board for leverage, he'd finally got Stan dug out but his leg had a compound fracture, with white bone sticking out.

Using slats from the building's tongue and groove roof, he told Stan to cut his jeans off his broken leg then instructed him to cut his jeans into strips, with a tiny pocket knife Stan had in his pocket. Working as a team, together he and Stan managed to splint Stan's broken leg.

"Now you need to set my arm."

"I don't know how." Stan frowned.

"Do it just like we splinted your leg. Use the slats like splints and the tie it tightly with the jeans' strips."

Groaning he clinched his teeth, as Stan pulled the jeans tightly around his forearm and stabilized his broken arm.

"Where did you learn this, Josh? I mean I'd have never thought to do this."

"My Dad and my Uncle Chad liked to go camping, backpacking and hiking in Yellowstone, and Dad insisted I learn first aid if I wanted to go with them, though I never thought I'd get to use it. Pull it tight, Stan. I can take it."

But he moaned loudly as Stan pulled.

Then together, Stan dragging himself painfully across the floor, they moved and started digging Jordan out. During the process, Jordan woke up and whimpered repeatedly as they removed debris and uncovered him slowly.

"Can you reach your phone, Jordan?" Josh asked.

"No but it's in my pocket, front right."

Stan said, "I'll get it," and he managed to reach after a couple tries and come up with Jordan's blood covered phone with its screen shattered.

"It doesn't look good. Hope you bought the phone replacement plan."

"I hope I live to need a new phone."

Stan swiped and got nothing, and Josh found that he truly wanted to cry. Jordan phone had been his last hope that they would able to call 911 and help would come.

"Press the on button, Stan." Jordan said weakly.

Stan tried again but still the screen remained dark.

"Fuck me!" Stan said as he flipped the phone over and removed the back cover and then the battery.

"Count to twenty."

"Ten should be enough."

"Please," Stan said, "Surprise me and reboot."

He found that even he gave a small prayer he didn't believe in.

But still Jordan's phone refused to come on, and he cursed as he rose and tried the metal door again, shaking it, to find it still locked tightly. His hands touched the hard dark walls and he picked up a board, and he hit the wall and the board bounced right off. And he hit the wall repeatedly but the wall didn't give and he just was jarring his arm. He wanted to cry because they had to get out of here.

"Josh, come on. The wall's not going to give and you're wasting energy. Please, help me dig him out," said Stan, who added, "I can't move this beam by myself. I need your help."

Wiping his face, he turned.  "Okay," and they went back to work digging Jordan out.

But then they found the dark and red blood covering his legs, and Jordan started screaming like they were killing him every time they removed a piece of debris from his legs.

"Wait," he said, "His legs are still bleeding. We have stop. "

"No, we need to get him out." Stan continued to dig.

He stilled Stan's hand.

"NO. See the dark blood? That means it's old but there's fresh red blood too. Jordan you're still bleeding. If we dig you all the way out, we'll have to hold pressure to control your bleeding. The debris is holding pressure on your wounds right now. If we move it then you'll bleed to death pretty quick."

"Can't we put a tourniquet on it?" asked Stan.

"No, a tourniquet stops the blood flow. We would have only a couple of hours before he'd lose his legs because of the loss of circulation. I'm sorry, Jordan, but I don't know how much longer we're going to be here. We can't dig you out anymore."

"Then, STOP." Jordan said forcefully. "It's crushing me but I don't want to lose my legs. Please I don't want to lose my legs. I can take it."

Moving down, he dug until he found the teen's shoe then he peeled his sock down a bit and then he found his other foot and did the same thing.

"Don't worry, Jordan. You're still okay. Your feet still look pink, which means you still have blood flow and your legs aren't in danger. Now, we all need to figure a way out of here." He rocked back on his heels.

"What are we going to do?" Stan said quietly.

Both of them looked up at the fallen roof.

"I don't know give me a second to think."

"I'm glad you're here, Josh," said Jordan in a quiet voice.

"Why?"

"Because, you're the smart one. If it wasn't for you we'd still be buried alive. I'd have never thought to use a board for leverage."

"Yeah, and I would have smothered by now. Thanks, Josh. If I had to be trapped with anyone, I'm glad it's you. Now, come on and figure us a way out of here. I'm counting on you."

"Look, I'm not that smart. I just remember what I see, what I read. It's like my mind takes pictures. Or maybe, I'm like a computer, and I download stuff into my memory. I don't understand how it works. My brain just does it. But, I don't know if I can get us out of here right now."

"Me either, but I know I don't want to die down here and you're my best chance. Give yourself a little time. I know you'll figure us a way out of here," said Stan.

"Yeah, Josh. I'm counting on you. Use that brain of yours and get us out of here. I don't want to die. Do you?" Jordan asked.

"No, and I've decided that I'm not ready to die yet either. Just give me some time to think. Though I'm open to any suggestions. Let's brain storm this."

"Why can't you climb out? I can see the next floor." Stan said.

"It's at least ten foot, and I'm hurt too bad. I can't climb with one arm. And there's nothing but that old file cabinet to climb up on. I'd fall and get hurt worse." 

He didn't mention that he had noted he was beginning to think he had internal bleeding himself. His spleen was maybe damaged and leaking blood into his left side of the abdomen under his rib cage because his stomach felt full and had begun to truly hurt, though he didn't know what had caused the damage, the fall or his Aunt kicking the shit out of him. He hoped it was the fall since that gave him more time.

"Start a fire, maybe?" Jordan said quietly, pulling him back from his dark thoughts.

"I think we would all die from smoke inhalation before the fire department got here."

"Are we screwed or what?" Stan said quietly as he leaned back against the rubble, "Well as least I can breathe while I starve to death."

"That will take a while as chunky as you are," Jordan said deadpan.

"Funny. You're a real comedian. That's about as funny as wondering how long it's going take you to finish bleeding to death."

"Josh, how long do you think I have?" Jordan asked quietly.

"Are you cold yet?"

"Yeah, but I think it's just the floor."

"Weak? Woozy?"

"Yeah some."

"That's good because it means you have only lost a pint or two."

"It looks like a lot more," Stan said.

"Blood's like that. But you're a big guy, Jordan, which is in your favor. Most adults have six to eight pints of blood and you don't seem to be bleeding at a fast rate. You've still got lots of time. Just try to rest."

"How do you know this stuff?" Stan asked.

"I have no friends, and I read a lot. But water's going to be our first problem. I'm going to look around, you two rest."

"Sounds like a plan. I'm going to take a nap," said Stan. "Wake me up if I can help. Unlike you, I still have two hands."

And he stood slowly, painfully, as he began to slowly survey the room, thinking there had to be a way out of this because if not Jordan would die first, and then he'd be next.

#####OQ#####

Oliver held starting practice for a few minutes. Lingering in the locker room, he looked at Ned, who held up three empty phone bags and then shrugged.

"I'd call them no call, no shows. Odd it would be these three. I've never noticed them to like each other. Well Stan and Jordan, yeah, they're friends but not with Josh."

"Yeah, well guess there's a first time for everything. But it does seem strange since I know Jordan and Josh were on the verge of fighting yesterday."

He turned and sighed, wondering where the three of them were.

Starting practice, he stretched the rest of the team out but the entire time it seemed like their minds were on something else. And his mind mulled the fact that he still needed a goalie and that for the first time ever, three of his team had simply blown practice off. He was far from happy about it.

Soon, he noted that the rest of the team must have been thinking the same thing since practice seemed off.

He knew it and the rest of his team knew it too. No one appeared able to pass or stop the ball today. Dean ran over top of Scott and he had to break up a fight. Russell kicked the ball and smacked Adrian square in the face and once again he had to stop another scuffle. If was as if everyone had something else on his mind and even he couldn't wait for practice to be over.

Toward the end of practice, he called them together and questioned them about Stan, Jordan and Josh and of course, no one knew anything or would tell him anything. It was infuriating and he couldn't help but feel he'd lost ground with his team.

However, he didn't believe them, and he knew they knew something from the way they looked at the ground and shuffled their feet and that said plainly they were lying to him, so he ran them several extra laps before sending them to the showers.

#####OQ#####

A blonde girl, slim and still growing into her body stood by the fence, clearly waiting for someone, while a much smaller dark headed boy sat on the ground playing in the dirt repeatedly crashing his small truck into the fence. He gauged her to be about thirteen and the boy under six, maybe?

The girl wiped her hands on the front of her pants and extended her hand, "Coach Queen? I'm Ruby Peters."

It clicked.

Thank you, Felicity for all those quizzes since today it paid off, he thought.

"You're Josh's sister?"

She nodded and asked with a hopeful tone. "Did Josh come to practice today? Is he still in the locker room? Maybe just running late? He's always running late."

"No, I'm sorry. He didn't show up for practice. Why?"

And her expression became pained and she twisted her hands.

"He didn't go to school today either and I'm worried about him."

"You should be. Missing soccer practice without a call in is a clear violation of the terms of his probation. I could have him placed back in juvy."

"Please don't. I  . . . I think something's wrong."

"Why would you think that? When did you see him last?"

"Yesterday and . . . he was in bad shape." The girl twisted her hands.

"Why? What happened?"

"Well, he was hurt for one thing."

"I saw him at practice, yesterday. He wasn't that hurt. So why would you be concerned? Haven't you called him?"

"He doesn't have his phone. My Aunt took it and he . . ." She bit her bottom lip then blurted out, "He got in a fight at school and then wrecked his skateboard. So he was kind of beaten up."

But her brown eyes refused to meet his, and he wondered what she'd just lied to him about?

"I don't suppose he was fighting with either Stan or Jordan?"

"It was Stan. How'd you know?"

"Because both Stan and Jordan missed practice too. I'm guessing all of them just decided to skip. Friend's? Fighting buddies? Maybe?"

She blushed before she said, "I don't think so, ever since we moved here, my brother doesn't have any friends. He's a real loner. Back at his other school, he used to be the popular kid but not here. But, I'm worried that he's in trouble. Please, Coach Queen, could you help me find my brother? I can feel it. Josh is hurt. Maybe hurt bad. He's been missing at least twenty four hours."

"Has your Aunt reported him missing yet?"

The girl looked at her shoes and shuffled her feet before she shrugged and said, "They had a fight. Trust me; she's not looking for him."

"Maybe I should talk to her?"

"No!" The word held pure panic, and he knew something was wrong with this situation as she looked terrified and asked in a strained voice. "Please could you not mention I spoke to you? My Aunt wouldn't like that I came to you."

"I really think I should talk to your Aunt, especially if you think something's wrong with your brother."

He could tell she was more than plainly uncomfortable, and if he didn't know better, she looked frightened as she added, "Look never mind. I'm probably wrong and just over reacting. I'm sorry I bothered you. Come on, Will."

"Wait, Ruby. Calm down. I didn't say I wouldn't help. How about I text you if I find something out?"

"You promise you won't brother my Aunt?"

Yeah, something was wrong with this picture. He knew fear when he saw it. "No, not for now. Just give me your number."

"Thank you."

Quickly, she gave him her number, while he wondered if Felicity could trace Stan or Jordan's phones, before he said, "Okay, I'll promise I'll take a look around. Do you know any place he hangs out?"

Looking miserable, she shook her head and added, "No, he's like a ghost most of the time. He just disappears into the shadows. Thank you, but I've got to go. My Aunt wants me at the house by six. And I'm probably just borrowing trouble anyway. Maybe Josh has come back already. I'm sorry I bothered you. Never mind."

"No bother, Ruby. I'll let you know if I find him."

Hmmm, Oliver thought, something's going on here and it looked like he was going to have to get to the bottom of it.

Reaching for his phone, he texted Felicity. "3 MIA players. Josh Peters, Stan Markton & Jordan Franks. Get me everything u can find on them & c if u can trace Stan and Jordan's phones & could u run a background on Peters' Aunt. Love U! C u soon!"

#####OQ#####

Well that's it for today. Thanks for the read and as always I look forward to hearing from you.


	37. Chapter 37

#####OQ#####

"Both of the boys' phones are a dead end. I can't get a signal on either one which makes me think they're turned off." Felicity positioned her tablet as he cleared the table.

"Or dead."

"Yeah, Stan's phone's last known location was his house, and Jordan's was soccer practice."

"He must have not turned his phone back on after practice. What did you find out about Josh's Aunt?" Rinsing a plate, he put it in the dishwasher.

"Squeaky clean. Not even a speed ticket. She's been the county library director for the last fifteen years. Has her masters in library science. Looks awesome on computer."

"Do I hear a 'but' at the end of that sentence?" He put the silverware in the dishwasher and dumped the left over green beans with caramelized onions and toasted slivered almonds into a plastic container and snapped the lid on.

"Maybe, okay, I admit I called Anna and asked her."

"And?"

"All she knew was she'd heard the woman was hard to work for, so I called Mae."

A smile tugged on his lips, as he opened the fridge and put the leftovers on the bottom shelf. "Go on."

"Got your attention, huh?"

"For years now, Felicity."

Turning, he winked at her, and the smile she rewarded him with tightened more than his chest.

"Flirt," she said in a voice that went straight to his groin as she talked with her hands.

"Guilty as charged."

Moving, he touched her arm, sighing as he found her warm skin beneath his hand. "What did Mae say?"

"That Janie Hall had never mentioned a niece and two nephews in California. Mae serves on the town council with her and from Mae's tone, she doesn't like the woman. Not that she said anything bad about Josh's aunt but she mentioned Josh's mom left this town at sixteen and it sounds like she never looked back."

"People do that. People leave and make lives somewhere else. You did."

"And I'm glad I did because if I hadn't left, I'd have never found you. But, Mae also told me they were half-sisters with different fathers and their mother died in a car wreck right before the sister left. I looked it up. The sister, Raven, disappeared off the grid for a while until she married Josh's dad at about nineteen and it was three years before Josh showed up."

"No babies before Josh?"

"Not that I can find. However, according to Mae, the two sisters weren't close, no contact for years close, and her taking those three kids in shocked everyone. Seems everyone considered her an old maid and hardly mother material."

"Now that's harsh."

"We're talking small town here. Mae even used the words 'bless her heart, she tries but she's just not mother material.'"

"Which means?" He grinned at her.

"I looked it up. In the south it means "poor dumb thing." She made air finger quotes. "Guess it's a passive-aggressive way of insulting a person." And she grinned back.

He shook his head. "Do me a favor and don't ever bless my heart, but maybe Josh's Aunt Janie had a change of heart, since her half-sister and her brother-in-law died in a plane wreck. Death does that to some people. It makes them step up and do things they normally wouldn't. I would know."

"Maybe, but I went back over each of these kids' files, and I don't know how I missed it, but Mike Peters was Josh's dad."

"And that's supposed to mean something to me?" He began to rub the knots out of her shoulders, and she leaned into his hands.

"Have you ever said Google look up something?"

"Oh course, who hasn't?" His hand found her bare flesh, running his hand down her arm and over the top of her hand to squeeze.

"Exactly, well, Josh's dad worked for Google and helped develop the program. The man's mind worked like a computer, maybe better than a computer. I respect that. And you know what else?"

"No."

"Josh is a fracking genius too."

"Josh? The kid who constantly flunks his drug tests and who always throws the first punch in fights at school? I know you're good at what you do, but are you sure you don't have your kids mixed up? Twenty is a lot of them."

She crossed her arms, pulling away from him, while looking up over her glasses at him. "He's been playing them. After digging deeper, I found Josh's IQ test. Talk about smart. He's off the charts smart, and he scored top of his class at that expensive private school he attended before moving here. I mean he's almost as smart as I am."

"Now that's saying something."

"Yeah, and he's fifteen. Fracking fifteen." She started talking with her hands, and he felt his love swell his chest. "But then I looked at his grades here. Talk about failing. He's flunking everything. And I do mean everything. He only takes the tests. Looks like he aces the tests and ignores the rest and the teachers are passing him on."

"Why am I not surprised."

"Back to his dad. If his dad would have lived Josh might have been another Steve Jobs. It looks like his dad was grooming him for Google. The teen's brilliant in math and science. Plus, I checked his aunt's checking account. Wait for it. She's drawing mega money off those three kids. And she's banking it."

"Really? Well she needs to buy Josh some new clothes since his are too big and they're ratty. And  new shoes wouldn't hurt. He and most of the rest of team have already torn up their second set of running shoes." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to have to buy some of them another set of shoes soon. Jesus, I'm wondering how much more money's left in that grant?"

"I'll find out. And kids are hard on shoes, and you're right it doesn't look like she's spending anything on clothes for Josh and maybe the others. Now do you want to talk about whatever is truly bothering you? You've been quiet all night."

Felicity frowned at him as she looked up from her tablet, and he grabbed a dish clothe and wiped the table, sweeping the dinner crumbs into his hand before washing them down the sink.

"Have I? I thought we'd just had an entire conversation."

He hung the dishcloth up, straightening the towel twice, before he turned and stared out the kitchen window as he rinsed the rest of the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

"We did, but I noticed you've been quiet tonight. Not like you're normally chatty, but did you have a bad day? I have to ask."

He looked out the window. "Jesus, when did you get to know me this well?"

"Years ago. Go on."

"Figures. I admit, today's been off. Look, I'm going to go out for a while. I can get those boy off my mind. Okay with you?"

"No, not okay. You pulling back away from me again. Talk to me, Oliver. What was off about today? Care to share. Please, reach out. Be an US."

Turning around, he found she'd removed her glasses as she rubbed her eyes.

"You need to not look at the screen all the time, to take better care of your eyes."

She met his eyes. "I'm addicted you know?"

"Yeah, I do know but too much screen time dries your eyes out."

"Okay, if you don't want me to look at the screen then talk to me." Reaching, she turned her tablet over and smiled her wonderful smile up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back as butterflies tumbled around in his stomach.

How could she look at him and turn him into an unsure teenager once again? He honestly didn't know how she did that to him but he loved her and his feelings weren't going away.

And since he loved her, he made the effort.

"Those three boys blowing off practice today influenced my team. I'd thought I was gaining ground with all of them and but after today, I'm not sure."

"Maybe your lost boys didn't just blow off practice. Maybe Josh's sister's right, and Josh is lying hurt somewhere."

"This has nothing to do with Peter Pan and if that's true, why would Stan and Jordan be missing too? They're not friends. Josh and Jordan were on the verge of fighting in the locker room yesterday. All these kids are angry and fighting's becoming a real problem during practice." He held up three fingers. "I've broken up three fights in the last two days."

"Ouch. Well, maybe they've reached the point they're sick of soccer practice."

"Sick of practice?"

"Yeah, don't you ever remember having to do something until you can't stand it anymore? Something you hated?" She made such a cute ugly face before she said, "When I was ten, my mother decided she wanted me to play the flute. And I hated it. I made my own ears bleed. It got to the point I pretended to be sick to get out of going to lessons. I lost my flute to get out of practicing playing. I finally accidentally forgot to move it from behind the car and my mother ran it over, and believe me, she's the only one who cried."

"You seriously did not."

"Yes, I seriously did. Her car smashed it flat and that was one time I was glad she was struggling since she couldn't afford to buy me another flute. Come on, didn't your mother ever make you do something you disliked?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't run over what I hated."

"Which was?"

"Ballroom dancing. My mother forced me to take dancing classes."

"The reason you don't like to dance maybe?" She grinned sweetly up at him.

Unable to stop himself, he touched her arm, grounding himself with her touch with the words, "But I like to dance with you." And taking her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles, and she stood and let him pull her into his arms.

She melted into him before she sighed and leaned her body against his chest as they swayed and she giggled. "But, there's no music."

"Trust me, I don't need music to dance with you." He stroked her hair and inhaled, savoring the moment.

"Smooth, Oliver, I'll give you that but tell me why you don't like to dance?"

He continued to sway as his hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb stroking her soft lips. "My mother expected me to learn so I could dance with her friends at her dinner parties. You're right. I got sick of going to dance classes. I couldn't see the point of going. And I didn't want to dance with her, okay I'll say it, her old friends."

"Well, maybe your team's sick of soccer practice. Maybe your team can't see the point anymore. What do you do during practice?" And she broke the contract and pulled away from him, with a toss of her blonde hair.

"We practice soccer." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stuck his chin out. "That why they call it soccer practice."

"How?" She encouraged him with one of her smiles. "Come on, tell me about practice. Describe practice for me."

Uncrossing his arms, he said, "First, we stretch, then I have them kick the ball, pass the ball, try to score, which is pretty easy since I haven't found one of them who's a decent goalie yet, and then we run laps."

"Every time?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, no wonder they're wanting to beat each other up. Have you ever thought about making it a little more, how can I put this? Hmmm?" She smiled up at him, and tilted her blonde head. "FUN, maybe?"

"They're not there to have fun. They're there to learn to play soccer. And we only have three weeks left before we face our first opponents. Felicity, I don't have time for fun since they're still pretty bad. If they have any chance they have to play better."

"Or what? Oliver, you're doing that hand thing you do with your fingers when you're stressing."

"I am not." But he fisted his hands, clearly busted.

Moving, she wrapped her arms around him and like normal, he stiffen slightly before he gave in and accepted her touch, before he leaned in and pulled her into his embrace as he inhaled her scent and sighed.  His body settled against hers in a way that fit like no other ever had or ever would.

And he swore she smelled like a spring day.

"I swear, I'm not stressed. I'm concerned. I've told you that people are planning to come and watch the games. People are planning to tailgate, to cook food in the parking lot, and party. And I'm thinking there's going to be a lot of people. My team has a Facebook page for goodness sake, with pictures and video."

"And I've liked it."

"Of course, you liked it'"

"Social media. You know LIKED IT?"

"Alright I'll admit I don't get this liking Facebook thing."

She stepped back, using her pointer finger to mimic clicking a mouse, with the words. "You know you click on the Like button to LIKE a page."

He would've, at one time, suppressed his smile, but it felt good to smile at her, thinking how cute she looked, as he forced his instant desire down. He had to adjust his pants as he pushed back the idea of taking her hard and right now on the kitchen counter, as she shook her blonde head, and gave him a sweet smile with the words, "Oh, never mind."

"Yeah, and I'd LIKE to move on. I've no desire to know any more about Facebook than I already do."

"Did you make a joke? I'm going to write today down."

Not wanting to admit it, he grinned and reached and touched her shoulder before withdrawing. "If you haven't notice social media isn't my thing. I glad it's your department and you can have it."

"You could learn social media if you wanted to."

"I wouldn't want to take your job away from you." And he beamed at her again.

Once more she shook her head. "You know, it's wonderful this town's supporting these troubled kids. Though, I think you're missing the point this program's trying to teach. And you're clearly  turning this into a winning thing. You think your team has to win."

"I do not."

But he looked down.

"Yes, you do. You think you have to win for this game to be fun. I know it's hard for you to stop being competitive but somehow you need to make soccer about having fun for these teens and not just about winning because winning isn't everything. I've read that winning is the last thing on most player's list for playing a sport. Having fun is first and the most important reason people play the game in the first place."

"I hear you but trust me; we're not going to win anyway."

"Which is why you're stressing. Hence, the twitching hand thing. And I don't think your team is having fun playing soccer either. Do you?"

He pondered that, and he realized she might be right and he shook him head. "No, maybe not."

"Then maybe it's time for you to make practice fun somehow."

"You could be right. Alright, I'll think about it. Now have I shared enough? I want to go out for a while. Do you mind? Or do you want come too? I have three lost boys. And I don't think Peter Pan's coming to save them."

And he gave her a small grin.

She smiled her light filled smile at him. "No, you go on. Go look for your lost boys. I know you're dying to, and besides I'm still waiting on some searches. Do you want me to wait up for you?"

"No. Don't. Go to sleep if you're tired." His hand swept her shoulder, moving to touch and cradle her face. "I don't want you to tire yourself out."

"I'm not sick anymore. I promise, I'm a lot better. I hardly ever hit the inhaler anymore. And I'm getting better every day."

His stomach tightened before he said, "I'm glad, but I never want you to go through being sick ever again."

Her tiny smile made his stomach plummet, along with her words, "Life doesn't come with guarantees. People age, they change, and they get sick and die. I know now that I'm mortal."

"Don't talk like that. We still have lots of time."

"We don't know that, but yes, we have today. Wake me up when you come to bed. Okay?"

And she leaned in and gave him a promising kiss, sucking his bottom lip and making him almost harden. "I love you by the way and you just wait to see what I do with you later."

Oh, how he loved it when her hand swept his scruff, and he fought his hard on once again.

"I can't wait. I love you too."

And his hand swept her face and savored touching her. "I'll wake you up when I get home. I promise."

Her eyes met his and she winked. "I look forward to it. Don't be long, Oliver. Now go find your lost boys."

#####OQ#####

He cruised the streets on his bike, searching for any sign of his three lost boys, but Jordan wasn't hanging with his gang members on the street corner tonight. And when he rode past his Aunt's house, Josh's skateboard wasn't propped against the wall.

Josh's sister Ruby was beginning to look like she might be right.

The teen might be in trouble.

Slowing the bike, he thought about stopping and talking to Janie Hall, but Ruby had look frightened when talking about her aunt and the lights were off and it was only about 8:30 p.m. It seemed early for everyone to be gone to bed but maybe they were early risers. 

Yet, he could feel it. Yes, there was something wrong with this household, and he wished he knew what. He already knew that Josh's aunt wasn't doing a good job taking care of those three kids but could something else be going on in that house? Gunning the bike, he rode toward Stan's.

Stopping his bike at Stan's house, he knocked on the door and introduced himself to the teen's stone faced step-father.

"Mr. Williams, hi, I'm Oliver Queen, Stan's soccer coach."

"Nice to meet you. Call me, Noah. I don't suppose you've heard from Stan?"

"No, I haven't. I was wondering if you had any ideas? Stan's never missed practice."

The worry, no almost panic, shown in Stan's step-father's voice, "Stan just doesn't not come home. Something's clearly wrong. And I've looked everywhere I know to look. I wanted them to activate an Amber Alert, but Jeff doesn't think Stan's been abducted since Jordan's missing too. He thinks they're partying somewhere and just didn't come home."

"Well, I hate to say it but Jordan might not be the best influence for Stan."

The man spat on the ground, before the older man said with bright eyes, "Okay, Stan might not be my boy by blood but he's still my boy. And, yeah, Jordan makes bad choices sometimes, but he and Stan have been friends since preschool. Jordan would never do anything to hurt Stan. He protects him and always has."

"Have you heard Stan say anything about Josh Peters?"

"Can't say I have. That's Janie Hall's nephew isn't it? The boy from California?"

"That's the one."

"Do you think he has something to do with Stan and Jordan being missing?"

"No, I don't but I know he didn't come to practice either."

"I just don't understand what is going on here. Three boys missing and the cops aren't even looking for them."

"I'm looking for them."

"Thank you and please, if you find out anything give me a call. Here's my number."

He programmed the number in his phone, with the words, 'Noah, Stan's Dad.' "Believe me, I'm looking for all of them. They're members of my team. And I'll bring them home if I can."

The man reached out and shook his hand. "Please find him. Stan's not a bad kid. A little misguided some times, but he and Jordan both have good hearts. I don't know the other boy, but I know all of them need to come home." And the man turned and shut the door.

Afterwards, he stopped by Anderson's Family Restaurant and spoke to the assistant manager, a tall gray haired woman, with the name Candy on her name tag.

"Stan never misses his shift busing tables, and he's missed two days in a row. He needs the pocket money because I know he's saving to buy a car."

"How long has he worked here?"

"About six months. He got a work permit at fourteen, and since I know his step-dad and the fact that Stan got dealt a bad hand, Rob, the owner gave him a change. He's a good worker and he's never been a no call, no show. Something's clearly wrong or Stan would be here right now doing his job."

Thanking her for her time, he then stopped at Jordan's house. A harassed looking woman, with a protruding belly and a toddler on her hip jerked the door open with the words, "Thank god at least you've found him. Now just go on and tell me what he's done now?"

"I'm sorry if you're talking about Jordan. I don't know where he is, but I'm looking for him, for all of them."

"Look, I'm sorry. I was just hoping you knew where he was Coach Queen. For all of them? I know Stan's missing. Who else?"

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, I know who you are. The entire town knows who you are. Haven't you seen your Facebook page?"

And he inwardly cringed.

The woman pulled a cigarette pack from out of her bra and deftly managed to light one up one handed, holding the toddler. He couldn't help but notice that her teeth were starting to go bad and one of her bottom front teeth was missing.

"So you haven't heard from him at all?"

"No, and believe me, Jordan always comes home. And he isn't in juvie. I've checked, repeatedly. And forget the cops. Jeff's no help. He thinks Jordan and Stan are partying somewhere."

"And you don't think so?"

She exhaled smoke and shook her head. "I know my boy. Something's wrong. Okay, he's made some bad choices in the past but something's wrong. He always comes home to eat. He's a growing boy. He loves to eat. And, I've got a bad feeling. I think he's hurt somewhere. That's the only thing that makes sense because my boy always comes home."

"I'm looking for him. Give me your phone number, and I'll call you if I find him. Do you know anything about a teen named Josh Peters."

"Sorry, never heard of him." And she gave him her number and he put it in his phone under Jordan's mom.

"Well, I'll let you know if I find out anything." And he turned to leave.

"Coach Queen."

He turned back and looked at the very pregnant woman, who reached and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Thanks for stopping by and for looking for my boy. Most coaches wouldn't brother."

"I'm not most coaches and you're welcome."

He thanked her for her time and drove by Josh's house one more time. but no skateboard had appeared propped against the steps. But as he drove on past, he wondered once again why the girl Ruby didn't want him to bother her aunt about her missing brother. And again, his mind insisted he had missed something.

Parking the bike, he crossed the parking lot and opened the Police Department's door. The woman behind the glass window looked up and gave him an inviting smile, and he smiled back with his 'Hi, I'm Oliver Queen fake smile.'

"Is Jeff in?" He knew the answer since he'd seen his squad car parked outside.

"He doesn't normally see people this time of night."

"He'll see me. Tell him Oliver Queen wants to see him."

The woman frowned, then shrugged. "Well, let me check. Have a seat."

And she slid the window firmly closed.

Jeff let him cool his heels for quite some time. He had time to walk around, use the restroom, and check out the glass case that contained drug paraphernalia and a sawed off shotgun. Seriously, he thought, people still did that? Finally, he'd run out of things to do, and he pulled his phone out to check the time.

9:22 read his phone and he settled in to wait. Reaching, he pulled her hair tie from his pocket. Rolling it between his fingers, he thought of her and the calm settled over him.

At almost ten o'clock, the woman finally called him back and opened the locked door.

Leading him down a small hall with worn carpet, she opened a door. "Here you go." Then promptly left.

Jeff's small office made him almost claustrophobic. An old desktop computer, complete with a large computer monitor fought for space against stacks of folders and paper on Jeff's loaded up full desk. Boxes piled in mishap fashion lay on the floor along the walls and when he looked up into the corner behind Jeff's right shoulder, he watched a spider wrap up a fly up in its web.

Clearly, no one dusted here and everyone needed to eat.

Forcing himself to focus, he tried to ignore the mess, as he shook Jeff's hand before he sat down in a worn leather chair that groaned beneath his weight.

"What do you want now, Oliver? Because I know you want something." 

"Not always."

He pushed back in his chair and frowned. "Right, but I know better. You always want something. Let me guess. You've misplace some of your soccer team?"

Okay, he found himself glad that Jeff wanted to go straight to the point, yet, he hated Jeff's smug smile.

"Yeah, I've got three teens missing."

"You don't have to give me but one of their names. I know that Jordan Franks and Stan Markton have gone missing. Who's the third?"

"Josh Peters."

"Great the one from California that's been nothing but trouble since Janie took him in."

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Look, just go away. I don't know where the three of them are partying at. And truthfully I don't care. But if Josh's own aunt hasn't called him in missing, then clearly, she's not worried about him so why should I?"

"Well I'm worried about all three of them. Three teens don't just drop off the face of the earth."

"Want to bet? Anywhere from a million to over two million teens run away every year and a lot of them are never seen again."

"More the reason to look for them."

"They haven't been gone that long. They probably copped a ride over to the next town over and will show back up."

"No one has seen them in the last twenty four hours, and Josh has been missing more like thirty six. Something's wrong. You don't just lose three teenagers that normally come home."

"And both parents filed a missing person report. I've posted them as missing statewide and if they get picked up, I'll get a call. Now, let give you some advice. You're taking this coaching job way too serious. These kids excel at getting into trouble and giving their parents hell. Look, they're just having a little fun somewhere, and they'll turn up. They pretty much always do."

Standing, he said, "I don't think so and I don't suppose you'd reconsider putting out an Amber Alert?"

"Hell no. There's no way, I'm doing that. I'm sure those three are partying somewhere, and I'm not bringing a media shit storm down on this town over three screwed up teenagers, make that two teenager, since the one from California isn't officially missing. But the last thing I'm doing is making me and the rest of this town look like fools, when those kids wander back in after their party's over."

"I understand your reluctance to draw attention to the town, but that doesn't change the fact that they've been missing for almost two days, and Jordan and Stan aren't Josh's friends. That in itself is a reason to look for them."

"Well maybe they're all friends now. Teens are fickle like that. Maybe they're all buddies today, and they'll come back with hangovers."

"And maybe they won't. Maybe, we'll find bodies. We're wasting precious time here. Those teens have been gone for almost two days. Both Stan and Jordan's parents say they've never just not come home before. They didn't go to school. They didn't go to practice or to work. Something is wrong. And I think it's time that more people are looking for them than just me and their parents. I want you to reconsider."

"NO!"

Jeff stood and stuck his chin out and pointed his finger at him, with the words, "Unlike the girl that program's named for, I don't believe any of those kids have been abducted, and if you think I'm plastering those three kids' names all over the county on every digital road sign, radio and television station, not to mention every cell phone owner that's signed up by Liking their Facebook page, then you'd better think again. Now unlike you, I have things to do. This meeting is over."

And he clinched his hands to keep himself from reaching across Jeff's desk and grabbing him, forcing him. He'd truly love to knock some sense into the man and not doing it cost him dearly.

Making him exhale swiftly before he forced himself to turn away with the words, "Well I'll let you get to it. But you'd better hope when I find these kids they're still breathing."

Turning on his heel, he left the building and headed home to Felicity.

#####OQ#####

Josh took stock.

The room they were trapped in was about twelve by ten, which meant they had about one hundred and twenty square feet filled with debris from the roof and ceiling above them. In one corner, he'd found a pile of old newspapers and a bent metal filing cabinet.

He'd hoped for a water spigot or a bathroom but no such luck. So far his greatest find had been three battered cans of fish, one of which Stan'd managed to somewhat open with his tiny pocket knife and a lot of work. He'd also found two broken phones that were older than he was, along with two large yellow working flashlights, which he turned off quickly to conserve battery life.

Not that the flashlights were going to save them, but he conserved the batteries anyway.

The canned fish tasted nasty in his opinion, but he'd eaten a few bites since his portion gave him some protein and a small amount of liquid. Between Stan and him, with a little coaching, they'd even gotten Jordan to eat a couple of bites and drink the bitter water the fish had been canned in.

Jordan didn't have long to live and he knew it, and he didn't tell either Stan or Jordan that his left side had gotten worse.

You're dying too, his mind whispered.

His mind turned the problem of finding an escape over and over as night fell. They had wood from the tongue and groove flat roof, broken pieces of wood from the rafters and a lot of pieces of the roof covered in black tar with pea gravel in it.

Sitting down beside Stan, who sat on the floor by Jordan, he sighed deeply as he cupped his left side and readjusted his broken right arm.

"It's not much to work with is it?

"No, Stan, it's not. I have a lighter, and we could start a fire to signal for help, but I don't know how well the smoke would rise. It might fill the room up, and then we'd be in worse shape than we are now because I have no way to put the fire out and the tar would smolder and smoke."

"And stink." Jordan added.

"And the tar has a lot of chemicals in it." Stan moved his broken leg and groaned deeply.

He hesitated before he looked up, "Yeah, and I wish one of us could climb, then we'd just climb up to the next floor since it's only about ten foot."

"You could use the filing cabinet to climb up on?" Stan suggested.

"I've thought of that but I think it would tip over. It's pretty unstable."

"I could hold it for you."

"No, I'm too heavy, and I could never pull myself up with my arm the way it is. None of us can climb."

Jordan moaned and said, "And you're hardly heavy, Josh. Man, you're skin and bones, but I can't take much more of this. My legs are killing me. This shit's crushing me."

"Try not to think about it. Here, let me look."

He moved and raised Jordan's socks and saw that his legs weren't as pink as they'd been hours before.

"How do they look?" Jordan asked with a gasp, and he noted Jordan's teeth had begun to chatter.

"It looks like we need to get you some help soon, but you're still okay."

He didn't add the words, 'I need help too,' since he was now positive his spleen was bleeding internally into his stomach. He'd raised his shirt a little while earlier and took in the deeply purple skin over his swollen abdomen. Carefully, he'd pressed on his stomach and cried out in pain.

Yes, his aunt had done a real number on him this time.

Their eyes met and Jordan nodded. "I'm bleeding out. I'm numb from the cold. I've got the shakes. I'm not going to make it. I know it and you know it."

"Don't say that." Stan insisted.

Nodding, he swallowed hard, realizing Jordan's time was running out, and if he didn't figure someway out soon, all of them would die down here. One right after the other.

He'd noted Jordan's skin now felt clammy and his breathing seemed shallower.

"What are we going to do?" Stan's face looked pinched.

"We're going to cover him up and help hold in whatever heat he has left. It'll slow down his body's falling temperature. And help his core temperature from falling any lower."

Rising, he went to and picked up a stack of old newspapers and returned.

"Seriously, newspapers?"

"Yeah, help me, Stan. Unfold them and lay them over the top of him. Bury him in them. And make them several layers thick. Cover up the top of his head. Sorry, Jordan, it was dumb of me not to cover you up sooner. You're losing a lot of body heat out of the top of your head and your core body temperature's falling."

"You know this for sure?"

"I know this is totally out there, but the other day, I read an article of out The 'American Agriculturist' dated January 1876 that talked about the cotton shortage and how newspapers were just as good as wool."

"1876, truly, you read something that was wrote in 1876?" Jordan teeth chattered harder now.

"Written in 1876 and yeah, I found it interesting. And remember I have NO friends here. Words are my friends now. So I've read a lot to pass the time, since school's past boring."

"Okay, what else did it say?"

"Like you're interested."

"I am. Enlighten me. Anything to pass the time." Jordan tried to grin as Stan continued to open up newspapers and place them on top of his friend.

"The article said the high price of cotton had driven up the price of wool and that get this 'common newspapers make a very good addition to bed coverings.' Is that funny or what? Okay, I get that they were freezing. Then the article went on to say that the paper was a 'none-conductor' and aids to hold the heat in."

"I can't believe it but I feel warmer. Thank you, guys. It's warmer. And they're right, they work just like you put a warm blanket on me. But wait why was the price of cotton up?"

"Have you heard of the Civil War and slavery? Before the war cotton prices were cheap. The market was flooded before the war."

"I don't believe it but I'm feeling a lot better now. The shakes are going away. And yeah, that was a dumb question since I should have thought about the year but then history isn't exactly my strong point. Keep talking, Josh."

Jordan's teeth still chattered but not as much as before Stan continued to bury in him newpapers.

"Okay. Believe it or not the cotton industry was kind of like the oil industry today, only unlike the Middle East, we were the major suppliers."

"The slaves more like," Stan added.

"No, they were the work force. The plantation owners were the suppliers, and by 1850 America's leading export was cotton and it controlled Europe's economy."

"I think I read somewhere that the South used cotton as a bargaining chip, trying to get Great Britain to support the confederacy."

"Yeah, Stan, you're right but it didn't work as well as the South would have liked. They were trying to bully Great Britain into supporting their side."

"But the South still managed to use cotton to buy weapons, ammo and ships."

"Wow, Stan. You know history too."

"Okay, I admit I watch the History Channel. And I saw something about how after the Civil War the price of cotton went from ten cents a pound to almost two dollars."

Jordan shifted under the newspapers. "Finally something I know about. Two dollars back then would be worth over thirty dollars now. And our money would be worth about thirteen cents then?"

"How do you know that?"

"Numbers are my thing. Well, actually, I like economics. The math draws me in, that and the stock market. I suck at English and Science but not math." Jordan said quietly. "It's weird but it's almost like I can see it, understand it in my head, that and economics."

"Me too when it comes to math, but you can have the economics and the stock market thing. Hey, maybe we have more in common than I thought. Maybe you and I should talk."

"Maybe we should." And Jordan grinned up at him. "The newspapers are helping. I've warmed up."

"Well, the homeless cover up with newspapers when they're sleeping in the parks, so there must be something to it." Josh gave a slight grin and slowly the more Stan buried him the more Jordan stopped trembling.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm feeling pretty homeless right now. Josh could you go get me some more newspaper so we can cover up too? I'm kind a cold too." Stan pointed toward the pile.

"Sure." And he got up and got several more stacks.

"I'll make us a pallet to sleep on. Where do you want to sleep, Josh?"

"We should sleep beside each other. It will help conserve body heat and help us get through the night. And you're right if we put the paper under us, between us and the concrete, we'll be warmer."

Stan managed to get the paper laid out and Josh thought about the joint in his pocket. It was possible that Jordan or he wouldn't wake up in the morning. 

It, somehow, seemed fitting to share.

"Guys, now, to celebrate us being warmer, I'm wondering if any off you want to help me smoke this?"

Pulling the paper out of his pocket, he held up his last joint. "It's the chronic. Which means it will help with the pain but it will make us wicked thirsty."

"You've been holding out on us. Fire it up, Josh." Jordan said with a large groan. "I'm already thirsty and at least if we get rescued, you won't get busted with it."

"When we get rescued and you're right. I don't want busted with it." And he fount it  hard to laugh but he managed a painful snicker.

"I'm up, too, my leg hurts, aches." Stan gave him a toothy grin.

"Here, my lips are busted, and I might bled on it." He handed him the joint and his lighter with his left hand.

"I don't remember busting your mouth."

"Light it already. You get the honor." He said hoping Stan wouldn't ask about his lips again.

The teen grinned slightly. "Honored." And he lit the lighter and inhaled the smoke deeply before he held the joint for Jordan, who buried in newspaper couldn't hold it himself.

Jordan inhaled and then nodded as Stan passed it back to him. Hitting it hard, he held his smoke until he had to exhale; his lungs expanding and he coughed and held his aching right side, while he moaned.

They smoked half of the joint and Jordan said, "Put it out, Josh. You'll need it again later."

"You will too. We all will."

"Maybe."

But he wondered if Jordan would be here later as he took in the older teen's ears with his large ring piercings and thought about how he knew both of Jordan's arms were already inked full.

"Thanks, I feel better. Josh, you know, I wish I'd gotten to know you better. I should have made an effort. Maybe we could have been friends?"

"Not many people have been interested in being my friend since I moved here."

"It's the small town thing," Stan said, "That and your brain. We all heard that your dad was someone big in computers or something. And your aunt's this brainiac that runs the town library. And she's got a bunch of degrees. Besides, you've got lots of money, hell everyone knows you're rolling in it."

"That's were you're wrong. I don't have any money not anymore. My aunt gets it all. I'm lucky to see twenty bucks a month, plus lunch money. By the way, we just smoked about a week's worth of my lunches."

"No wonder you're thin." Jordan said quietly. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you eat in the lunchroom."

"Yeah, well, I don't eat much anymore. And my Aunt doesn't really cook. We eat a lot of Ramon noodles and frozen foods, pizza and mirco-wave meals. If I have money I eat off the dollar menu some days."

Jordan groaned a little. "That sucks. My mom's a fantastic cook. And Mom will be worrying since I always come home for dinner. She'll be freaking out and calling the cops. They're going to be looking for us."

"If I'm lucky my sister will be looking for me."

"Your kid sister? What about your aunt?"

"The last words she said to me were sleep on the street."

"The librarian?"

"Hey, it's no big deal. She locks me out all the time. Why do you think I hang out here? I needed a place to sleep."

Stan stretched his body out and gave a small whimper as he re-positioned his broken leg. "But it's hot here in the evenings and cold at night. No power or air. Nothing. Truly, man you really sleep here? Do you have a bed somewhere?" 

"It's no big deal. I've got some stuff for a pallet, and I've been sleeping here off and on for months. She locks the door usually at six," he shrugged, not wanting to tell them it was safer to sleep here so he covered like normal. "Then I'm locked out. And since I'm normally late after soccer practice then I'm locked out. Sometimes I just come straight here after practice."

Silently, he wished he'd had come straight here yesterday and bypassed his aunt's beating.

You don't have a key to your house?" Stan added, "How weird is that? I've had a key to the house since I was eight and came to live with my dad full time."

"It's not my house and she's never giving me a key. So, where did you live before?"

"Lots of places."

"How often does she lock you out?" Jordan asked, almost cutting Stan's words off.

He looked down before he said, "Four or five times a week. Soccer practice you know?" And he wanted to say the words, "And she hits me too and maybe I deserve it." But he couldn't get the words out of his mouth since maybe they were true, and Stan and Jordan weren't really his friends. He might be high but no way would he give them that ammo to tease him about later if they lived.

Jordan gave a large groan with the words, "Now that's ironic. The little rich boy doesn't have a place to sleep and none of us knew. Me, I'm a poor boy on my third step dad. At least this one has a steady job with the city."

"The city?"

"Yeah, he works for the water department on the street crew. Fixes leaks and shit like that. He's a decent guy, I guess and better than what Mom usually picks. I've already got five siblings, two half-brothers, and one half-sister, two steps, one girl and one boy. And my stupid mom is pregnant with yet another one."

"Eight of you in one house? How many bedrooms?"

"Three and they're full enough without another crying baby. We're struggling some months. And since Mom's pregnant she's not working again, but at least I have a couch to sleep on and it may be crazy, insane most days at my house, but I have a house key and my mom's a good cook. We draw a few food stamps and my mom's good at stretching the food dollar. And she cooks from scratch."

"That's a lot of people in one house. How do you handle it?"

"I stay gone a lot. Hang with my friends. But why doesn't your aunt give you more money? I thought you were rich, had money? That skateboard you ride is worth a fortune."

"It's from my old life, when I guess I was rich. But I'm not rich anymore. I admit before I lived here I never thought about money. I had all the new toys back then. Hell, I had an awesome drone at one time but since my parents died, I'm dirt poor. Everything I ever had but that skateboard is gone. And now it's probably buried under the rubble."

"Where'd all your stuff go?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "My parents died without a will and everything went into probate and was still there the last I knew. My aunt doesn't talk about that kind of stuff. I was kind of in a daze after my parents crashed their plane and my entire life. I do remember that my Aunt refused to ship anything, claiming it was too expensive. And she doesn't like clutter, so I left my stuff behind like the rest of my life."

"So you left it all behind?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, I got to keep my skateboard, my tablet, my laptop and one suitcase of clothes. I left my second bag of clothes in the airport when they told me I had to choose my clothes or my skateboard as a carry on. I chose the skateboard so I only got one bag, instead of two bags like Ruby and Will. My aunt hates my skateboard, but she couldn't stop me since I gave up the second bag to keep it."

The memories of those days washed over him. They'd just landed and she'd turned and asked where his other bag was, and he'd told her "LA" and her nose had flared. She'd been beyond angry that he'd refused to give up the skateboard his father and he had picked out together, and now she would have to buy him new clothes, and he'd never seen the beating coming as they'd entered her townhouse for the first time and she'd turned on him, hurting him badly that first time.

"Josh, are you okay?" Stan asked. "You're looking a little white."

"Sure, great." But he wasn't as he tried to push the ugly memories away.

I don't have any real parents either," Stan said quietly. "As my step mom points out on a regular basis, I'm lucky to have a home. She makes sure I know that my step dad and her didn't have to take me in, that they could have given me to the state. Some days I'm pretty sure she hates me but my dad loves me and she knows it, and I came first."

"That's hard. My aunt makes sure I know how much trouble I am, and how much she hated my dad and my mom."

"Well, I never knew my sperm donor."

"Stan, you don't have to talk about this."

"It's okay, Jordan. I don't mind Josh knowing. Hell, the entire town knows my dad disappeared before I was born. My birth mom met my real dad when I was four and when they broke up, we moved a lot. But Dad got custody of me after Mom lost me to the state for neglect when I was eight. She was doing meth, shooting it."

"With a needle?"

"Yeah, but Dad, he's my real dad because he wanted me, and he stepped up for me and jumped through all the hoops the state put us through for two years before they finally got out of our lives."

"The state?" His heart rate sped up.

"Yeah, you know CPS?"

"CPS?"

"Child Protective Services," Jordan said dryly.

"But Dad did everything they asked of him, parenting classes and home visits and the rest of the bullshit, and they finally closed our case. And at least I have my own room and a house key."

"Lucky you."

"I know and he's not even my real dad but he is because he loves me, and I know he's worried about me right now. I'd bet he's called the cops by now. I know he's worried, and I'm sorry I'm putting him through this but I hope he finds us soon."

"Where's your mom now?"

"Graveyard. She died in a car wreck a few years back." He looked down. "She was high and hurt some other people. Killed one."

"That's hard but that means your stepdad draws a check on you too."

"Yeah, but he takes good care of me. Look, I don't mind. My check helps pay the bills. It pays the light bill and buys some groceries. And it pays my probation fees and my fines and my allowance buys my spray paint."

"So you can get in trouble again."

"Shut up, Jordan."

"It's true. Every time you almost get out of trouble, you go paint something else."

"Paint?"

"Come on, Josh, to be smart sometimes you're dumb." Jordan groaned before he added, "Stan's an artist with the spray can."

"You paint graffiti?"

"It's art."

"Yeah, and he's an idiot and signs his work and gets busted every time." Jordan said dryly.

"Hey, did you do the wall over on Fifth Street?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, your work's awesome. I never knew."

"Thanks, man. I just hope I get out of here so I can get in trouble for criminal mischief one more time."

"Me too. Are you planning to go to art school after you graduate high school?"

"Never thought about it."

"Well, you should. You have talent."

"I do?"

"Sure, but look, I hate it but I'm going to have to sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open. My body's crashing." He lay down carefully on his left side in the fetal position on top of the newspapers as he cradled his aching arm and stomach.

"I'll cover you up," Stan started layering newspaper on him.

"Thanks, Stan. Good night, Jordan. Good night, Stan. Everyone try to sleep."

"Okay. Night, Josh," they both said and he hoped Jordan and he managed to wake up the next morning as he drifted away, thinking that if he died at least maybe he'd get to see his parents again.

####OQ#####

He jerked awake, the dream vivid in his head. His dad and mom had been there in his dreams and his mother had smoothed his face and comforted him as she'd rocked him and kissed his forehead before she'd faded away.

"Please, mom, I want to come with you. Take me with you. Let me come too."

"Not yet, son, you have to stay. It's not your time and your brother and sister need you. I love you with all my heart but you have to find a way out."

"Think," his father had said. "You can think your way out of this. Use that brain of yours. Find a way. The way out is in this room. You have everything you need. Find it. Solve the puzzle. I love you, Joshua tree."

Jordan ask quietly in the dark, returning him to hell, "You okay, Josh? You were moaning."

"Yeah," he lied, think about only his dad called him Joshua tree before he answered. "As okay as you. Try to rest. Morning's coming."

And Jordan groaned before he said, "Yeah, and tomorrow's going to be our day, Josh, one way or another, tomorrow's our day."

"I think you're right. But rest for now." And his mind worked.

#####OQ#####

And I know another cliffe but truly there was no way I could finish this in a couple of pages so needed another chapter. And as always thanks for the read, and please review if you have time. Reviews make me happy. And when I'm happy I write more. LOL

 


	38. Chaper 38

#####OQ######

Pushing the county library's door open, he walked up to the gray headed woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm here to see Janie Hall."

The woman looked over her glasses at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No." He smiled his best fake charming smile and tilted his head just so. "But if you would, could you ask if she's got a minute to fit me in?" While he thought, seriously, she's a librarian, and she's booked solid?

"I'm sorry but Ms. Hall doesn't normally see people without an appointment. In fact, she down right discourages it. I can give you her administrative assistant's number and you could call her and make an appointment."

"Is she in?" He knew the answer since he'd seen her new SUV parked outside.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then would you, please, pick up the phone and ask her if she'll see me. I'd like to see her today."

The woman looked pained.

"What if I said pretty, please? And add that it's important."

Once more, he flashed his smile and the older woman caved.

"Alright, for you, I'll see if she's available, Coach Queen."

"You know me?"

"Of course, I know you, Coach Queen. And my name's Lisa Smith." She extended her hand, and he carefully shook it. "I'm related to Nick Mitchell. His aunt actually. And when is his first game? My family's looking forward to it."

It was all he could do not to cringe before he said, "A little over two weeks now."

"Well, we'll be there. Along with probably most of the town." And she smiled brightly at him.

"That's great." But her words tightened his gut, and he reached in his pocket and fingered her hair tie for an moment.

Picking the phone up, she dialed a few numbers. "Janie, I hate to bother you, but Coach Queen's here to see you. I know he doesn't have an appointment."

A long pause and the woman frowned then said, "Yes, Janie."

Another bit of silence before Lisa said, "I understand that but he said it's important."

"Tell her I will drop by her house tonight around seven if she doesn't want to see me now."

The women repeated his words. "Yes, of course, I'll send him up." And she hung up the phone with the words, "She can give you five minutes. If you'll follow me."

"Thank you for asking for me, and I hope I didn't get you in trouble." While he narrowed his eyes. Five minutes. Hmm. Clearly the woman didn't want to see him. But why?

Leading him past several books stacks and toward the back of the building, she reached a staircase and pointed. "It will be fine. Janie and I have worked together a long time. You need to  turn left at the top of the stairs and then go down the hall and her office is all the way in the back. Nice to meet you by the way, and I'll see you at Nick's first game, and Coach Queen," her voice lowered, "Janie Hall has a lot of pull in this town, maybe you should remember that."

"Nice to meet you too, and thanks for the directions, but trust me, I can take care of myself."

Yet, he thought, great more people to watch his team get their butts kicked and seriously this woman had warned him about the town library director, like this woman held some power over him. 

Well that'd be the day.

If she only knew the real him, and he grinned, thinking that Felicity would love this. Just wait until he told her.

And he exhaled sharply at the thought of them discussing it later as a small smile tugged at his lips.

Climbing the library stairs two steps at a time, he hit the landing, turned left and walked until he found the door that said, Janie Hall, Library Director, and he walked right in.

Entering the door, he saw a dark haired woman, who looked up like a deer caught in the headlights. "Please, have a seat."

She pointed to a chair beside her desk.

Folding his large frame into the small chair, he waited as the woman, whose name plate said Jennifer Price, fidgeted in her seat as time dragged.

Finally, the phone rang, and the woman clearly jumped before she jerked around in her chair and answered.

"Yes, Janie, I will right now. Just give me a second."

She stood, and pointed. "Go right in. She's expecting you."

Unfolding himself, he stood and walked into the next office.

A large woman, build solidly, Janie Hall's hair had just started to gray. Guessing her age, he figured her to be in her late thirty's, maybe early forties.

And from the look on her face, she was anything but pleased to see him.

Of course, she ignored him for an instant, clearly making her point that she didn't have time for him. As yes, she obviously made him wait a few seconds, let him cool his heels as she plainly disregarded his presence. Her entire attention on the papers in her hand before she slowly closed the folder and stood and held out her large hand.

Before he shook her strong hand, he experienced the distinct feeling of being in a principal's office and being in serious trouble, and of course, she squeezed his hand hard when she shook it, and he realized she was a strong woman.

Giving a slight nod, she said, "Coach Queen, it's nice to meet you. Please, have a seat."

Yet, her eyes said otherwise as he sat down in a leather chair that squeaked.

No, not pleased at all, he thought as the woman sat back down too.

Smiling his best fake smile, he said, "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Ms. Hall. I understand you're busy."

Instinct kicked in as he quickly surveyed the room.

Two real oil paintings were on her large office's white gleaming walls. Her desk comprised of a small stack of papers held down with a glass whatnot, and the thought that the room seemed almost too clean crossed his mind, which was weird since he himself didn't need much but this woman had worked here fifteen years. 

Where was the cutter of life?

The bookshelves held several more glass whatnots, most of them expensive blown glass and several books that looked like first editions.

And old first editions, leather bound.

Yet most of her space lay bare.

"How can I help you?" Yet, her tone sounded hardly helpful.

Scanning her neat desk, he processed that she had no pictures. His eyes quickly scanned the room again. No, she wasn't bragging about her sister's orphaned children, and he fought his immediate dislike for the woman.

And once again, something felt wrong, off, with this family, but he forced himself to say, "I needed your input."

"About?" She wouldn't meet his eye.

"Josh Peters."

"What has that little idiot done now to cause trouble?" She narrowed her eyes and her face turned hard.

"Josh has missed soccer practice two days in a row. And frankly, I'm worried. It's not like him. Okay, he's always late to dress out, but he always shows up, and he's never been any trouble at all."

"You'd be wrong there." She met his eyes now and hers flashed. "Josh has been nothing but trouble since I got on the plane with him, and he chose his skateboard over his suitcase of clothes. Did you know he left an entire suitcase of clothes in LA because he wanted a stupid skateboard?"

"I'm not surprised. He seems to love his skateboard, but I've noted that he needs new clothes. His are bare thread and baggy."

"That's none of your business." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Maybe not, but he still needs new clothes. The boy's pretty much wearing rags."

"Maybe, he likes his rags. Now clearly this isn't your problem. Look, Mr. Queen, you're nothing but a volunteer coach, and you need to understand what this town wants is for do your job and coach that stupid ragtag team and stop putting your nose where it clearly doesn't belong."

His stomach tightened and his eyes narrowed. "Look, I'm doing my job. I care about my team. Yes, they have problems, but you need to understand that I'm not stepping away because Josh is a member of my team. And I intend to look for him until I find him."

She gave a small wave. "Do what you want, Mr. Queen. But, don't trouble yourself since, believe me, that foolish boy isn't worth your time. Now if you'll excuse me?"

"It's no trouble. And I understand you're busy but exactly when did you see Josh last?"

He'd wanted to see her face when he asked that question, and Janie Hall didn't disappoint.

Her face took on a pained expression, and he watched her hand fist before she straightened in her chair. Watching, he noted her hand uncurled, as she gave a dismissive wave. "Look, Josh disappears for days on end sometimes. He's like his mother, a bit high strung. So, I give him no mind. He'll be back when he gets hungry."

And you didn't answer the question, he thought before he ask, "Has he ever been gone this long before?"

The woman bit her bottom lip before she said, "No, normally it's just overnight."

"Wait, Josh, doesn't sleep at home?"

She frowned harshly. "I have a strict rule about curfew. If you come in after curfew then you face the consequences."

"Which are?"

"I lock you out." Her face hardened.

"At what time?"

"Six."

"You do realize that I sometimes hold practice until 5:30?"

"Well he's supposed to pick up his little brother by then, no wonder they've been calling me."

"Perhaps, you need to make other arrangements since he's court ordered to play, and I decide how long to hold my team for practice."

Her look smoldered, when he ask, "If at six you lock the door, then what happens?"

"He has to knock or he figures it out."

"Which means what? Where does he sleep? Do you know any friends he might be staying with?"

"No." 

And the word seemed final.

Again the feeling something was terribly wrong with this household plagued him, as she looked down and he thought you're lying when she said, "I didn't say that he didn't sleep at home, and no, I don't know any of his friends. Now I have a meeting and this meeting is over."

"One more question."

"Which is?"

"Why haven't you reported Josh missing?"

She visibly bristled.

"Jeff has enough on his plate, and I didn't want to bother him with Josh's repeated teenage stupidity."

"Josh is hardly stupid. You're aware that he has the IQ of a genius?"

"Not that I've yet seen him display. Besides he's only been gone a couple of days. I'm sure he's out making trouble for me yet again, and he'll be back soon enough. He's just like my sister, selfish and head strong, with no thought for others."

"You do realize he's violating the terms of his probation by not calling in?"

This time she met his eyes before she said smugly, "That would be Josh's fault. But of course, if you think you need to revoke his probation, I'll understand."

Her tone tightened his chest, since she sounded like she'd be thrilled if he'd do exactly that.

"Do you know if I revoke his probation, he'll go to a state detention center and possibility stay there until he's nineteen?"

"Well, he's the one making that choice now isn't he?"

"But you're talking four years. You do realize that he'd, no doubt, be ruined by then?"

"He's already ruined. He was pretty much worthless by the time my sister died. His foolish parents spoiled him into an insufferable brat who seems intent on getting into trouble."

"And the other two?" His tone didn't give away the intense dislike he felt for this woman at the moment but it was an effort not to show it.

"I have hope for Will, since he's still young. But Ruby could go either way. She could be smart and conform or be a fool like her brother." She gave a wave of her hand. And she stood, clearly dismissing him, with the words, "Now, I have a meeting. If you'll excuse me?"

He wanted to say how dare you? But instead he stood. "Thank you for your time. Would you have Josh text me if he comes back?"

"Oh course." She reached out and shook his hand once more, and he turned and walked away.

As soon as he exited the building, he called Felicity.

"Tell me," she said breathlessly, and he knew her eyes were lighting up the way they did when she was excited.

"The aunt's not in the least concerned that Josh has been missing for two days. She pretty well admitted that Josh doesn't sleep at home. I don't like her at all. Something's wrong in this household."

"I believe you, but why would he do that? I've talked to a few people, and he's a loner. So where's he sleeping? If he's not going home after practice, where's he going?"

"I don't know, but I bet if we figure it out, then we'll find those teens."

"Those lost boys have to be somewhere."

"You and your lost boys."

"Well that's what they are. They're your boys and they're lost." She inhaled sharply, before she said, "Oliver, have you thought about asking your team for help? Maybe they know something we don't."

"Maybe I should. Can you message each of them at the beginning of practice and send pictures of the lost boys out?"

"Sure, consider it done."

"And Felicity, she wants me to revoke his probation, so he can go to detention for the next four years."

"We've got to do something about this, Oliver. Josh Peters belongs at Google, to the computer age, not in a jail cell. We're not sending his brain to Criminal 101.

"Agreed, but we have to find him first."

#####OQ#####

Standing at the locker door, he waited for them as they came in for practice, with the words, "Don't dress out. Just have a seat. And you can play on your phones, while you wait."

Their faces registered shock as they filed in and sat down.

Phil hit the door and stopped in his tracks, clear surprise showing on his face.

"Welcome back, Phil. We're about to have a meeting so just have a seat."

And they kept filing in, though none of them talked, instead choosing to play on their phones. By the time seventeen teens sat on the benches in the locker room, the stress in the room lay thick enough anyone of them could cut it with a knife.

Pulling the portable dry erase board out, he wrote his phone number on the board.

"I want everyone to put my number in your phone, if it's not there already."

Several of them tapped his number into their phones.

"Now, like it or not we're team. We're a court ordered team. But we are also starting to be a real team."

Felicity, with her normal flair for drama, made the players' phones sound with a text, sending each team member a text with her normal perfect timing, as she send each player pictures of what she called his lost boys.

"All of you just got a text. Open it."

With a broad hand, he wrote the three missing teens names on the board before he eyed each and every one of them, his eyes sweeping down the line of teens.

"Now these three have been missing for almost two days. Get it. Almost forty eight hours." He eyed them hard before he said, "That's a long time for no one to have seen three people in this town. NOW, I want answers."

Again, he hesitated before he said, "If any of you know anything, feel free to text me. I want you to know I'm not looking for them to get them in trouble. So if you know something, you're not ratting anyone out, and I won't tell anyone you've talked to me. You can trust me to keep it to myself."

He waited before he went on. "Now let me tell you that I've talked to each of their parents or guardians and no one knows where they are. The local law enforcement has been, well let me say outright, less than willing to look for them. But we," he looked the group up and down and some of them met his eyes before he said, "Those three are part of OUR team."

Pointing at them, he said, "And we need to figure out where they are. Pretend I didn't say this but I want you to know that if you were missing, we, your team would look for you. So, where the HELL are they? Something's wrong with this picture."

He paused for effect.

"Now, we all know that they didn't just drop off the face of the earth and this practice, instead of kicking the ball, we're going to go out and look for them. I want each and every one of you out in the field. I meant the town, talking to people, showing them those pictures of Josh, Stan and Jordan. I want everyone looking for them until we figure out where they are. Now who's with me?"

You could have heard a pin drop. Then they shuffled their feet, several looked down, others looked at each other.

At that moment, he thought they weren't going to help, but then slowly, Alonzo, whose large frame was well over two hundred solid pounds, stood. "I'll do the docks. I think Josh hangs down there somewhere."

David stood beside him and added, "I saw Josh headed toward the docks a couple days ago. I agree we should look toward the water."

Marcus said quietly, "Stan's girlfriend threw chocolate milk on Josh at lunch a couple of days ago, maybe Stan went looking for Josh."

"And Jordan and Stan are best friends." Added Scott. "I don't see them being buddies with Josh. You're right, Coach that's there's something wrong with this picture. I can cruise the projects and talk to some people."

And Oliver smiled and nodded. "Then let's hit the streets."

#####OQ#####

Josh woke up much later to find the sun high in the sky, and the need to puke overwhelmed him. Rolling out of the newpapers, he hit the floor, crying out as he jarred his broken arm, and moved to the over side of the room and even with nothing in his stomach, he fell to his knees and dry heaved.

"Josh, you okay?" Stan asked. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up. You worried me."

"Sure, I'm good," he lied.

But he wasn't. 

His stomach hurt, and his left chest and shoulder ached like a bad tooth, and he knew he was still bleeding inside and the blood was aggravating the nerves in his shoulder. Dizziness assaulted him, and he shut his eyes to stay up right.

"Josh, talk to me. You don't sound good."

"Give me a minute." It truly hurt to inhale, and he had to use his good hand to steady himself as he opened his eyes, but for the first time, he noted a small tan cable that ran down the very corner of the room and an idea exploded in his brain. Painfully, he got up and followed the cable. Digging with his good hand through the debris, he found a small tan box still bolted on the wall and his heart sped up, his brain working frantically.

Jordan picked that time to groan and Josh said, "Jordan, good to hear you're still with us this morning. Wondered if you'd hang around or you'd be checking out."

"Like this place is a motel, huh, Jordan?" Stan said. "That's a good one, Josh."

"Well if it is then, I'm slumming. Josh, I can't say I'm impressed with your place by the way. So what are you up to this delightful morning?"

He almost grinned. "Well, I'm just about to call room service for you. Anything you'd like to order. Bacon and eggs, maybe?"

"I'm up for blueberry waffles like my dad makes." Stan quipped, "Or he's got these great pumpkin pancakes."

"Funny you two. I'm dying and starving and you two are making jokes and talking about food. "

Checking the box the plug seemed intact. "Well if you're going to dream then dream big. Hey, Stan, why don't you see if you can get one of those fish cans open."

"Way ahead of you. Come get your share of breakfast."

"Jordan, gets the first drink."

"Talk about nasty. Think I'll pass. You two drink it. I'm not going to live anyway. Why torture myself?"

"Don't talk like that. I know it's gross but think about your daughter. We have to drink it since none of us can survive without liquid, and it's our only source of water. Tell you what if you drink it and eat a couple bites, I'll share this roach with you."

"Now you're talking. Wake and bake. That I can do. Being buried alive isn't everything it's cracked up to be. Trust me. Today, I feel like my legs are asleep. I need a pain killer right now. "

"I hear you. I'm in pain too."

But he didn't add, and we're running out of time. His stomach ached like a fiery ball of constant pain. His shoulder and chest were shouting with ripping discomfort every time he moved, and he knew his internal bleeding was putting pressure on his stomach and nerve endings.

He hadn't checked Jordan's feet yet, but last night they had already lost most of their pink. Today was going to be the last day the two of them spent in this room one way or another, and he knew it.

"Josh, come eat your share." Stan insisted.

"I will. Give me a minute."

"Okay, but you need to have your share."

"I'm coming."

Forcing himself, he drank some of the liquid the fish was packed in. But, he couldn't make himself eat the fish.

"I ate it so you have to eat it too."

"Jordan, I can't." He shook his head. "Sorry but the fish would never stay down and puking hurts."

Silence answered him then he carefully explained to Stan how to fashion a roach clip out of a piece of splintered wood.

"Next to the last one." He handed Stan the roach. "Light it up."

"That's lots better. Thanks, man." Jordan said a little while later with a sigh.

"Happy, I could make your day."

The pain somewhat pushed back, he stood and circled the room once more. Earlier, he'd seen some old land lines in the beat up filing cabinet, and he remembered they'd been ancient, but they might work. Moving slowly, gingerly now, he walked over to the filing cabinet.

Opening the drawer, he pulled the old phones out one by one. Both of them were antique enough that they had rotary dials. However, the dial was missing off one of the phones and the second one broke off in his hand when he touched it, but his mind worked franticly, thinking, as he turned the problem, the puzzle, over and over in his head.

"What are you thinking, Josh?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, talk. It's hard to stay awake. I want to sleep," Jordan said tiredly, and he knew Jordan's blood pressure had to be dropping.

"Try to stay awake, Jordan. I'm thinking that maybe they never shut this land line off."

"Like that would ever happen," Jordan said with a small chuckle. "The phone companies love their money. Do you not have a phone?"

"No, not most of the time. My aunt takes it away. The days of always having a phone died with my parents. But, it's a chance. And maybe with these two old phones, I can make one of them work. I know this doesn't help my case on the smart thing, but I know certain things. I read something about these types of phones a while back."

"I'm thinking we need you to be smart right now, but I don't see how two dinosaur phones are going to help us." Jordan whimpered this time.

"I understand how these old phones work."

"You must mean worked because I don't see how they're going to work now." Stan drug his body across the floor to come sit beside him.

"Damn my fucking broken leg hurts like hell. GRRR." His face grimaced. "Not that I've had a lot of experience with landlines, but I'm sure we have to have a phone line to plug one into the wall."

"You're right, we do. But look, Stan. "

"And Jordan. I'm still here. I can't see but I can hear."

"Okay, and Jordan, I can take the cord from the receiver to the phone and use it as a cord to the wall. It's the same jack and the phone doesn't care." Almost grinning, he said, "Both of you keep your fingers crossed."

He plugged the cords in and picked up the receiver and his stomach bottomed out as he found a dead line.

"Anything?" Jordan said hopefully from across the room.

He bit his lip then crushed Jordan's hopes with the words, "No, nothing. Sorry. But give me a second."

His mind raced now.

"Figures, I told you so. When has the greedy ass phone company ever left a phone turned on if no one pays the bill?" Jordan said in a small voice.

"Wait. That's it. Yes, I know the answer to the puzzle."

"What puzzle?" Stan asked.

"The how to get up the hell out of here puzzle."

"Keep talking, Josh. I'd love to get this shit off my legs. It's crushing me. Please, tell me how you solved the puzzle. I'm dying to hear."

"Not funny, Jordan."

"Not meaning it to be. Well come on, tell me what's the answer."

"Look, we have two flashlights, which means we have power."

"Josh, you're not making much sense." Stan shook his head.

"Guys, when they shut landlines off, they just shut off your power source. The phone line's hopefully still intact. What we need is a power supply. With twelve volts, I could turn this phone back on. And we have twelve volts in the flashlight batteries. The phone's probably not to work right but it should work."

"You have to be fucking kidding me. You're talking science fiction here," Jordan said with a low moan.

"No. It will work." He insisted as he tried to take the large six volt battery out of one of the flashlights but found it close to impossible with only one hand, an aching stomach, chest and shoulder and just trying to do it made his chest tighten painfully and he cried out.

"Damn, I can't do this with one hand. Grrr. Jesus, I want to scream." 

"Josh, calm down, I have two hands and you don't." Stan looked him seriously in the eye. "Please, let me help. Let me be your hands. Just tell me what to do. I want out of here too, you know? We all need to get out of here."

"Okay, yeah, I know that. You're right. I should let you help." He forced himself to breathe, to cool down, as he handed Stan the flashlight, with the words, "Take both of the batteries out of the flashlights."

"Okay, got it."

And Stan removed the batteries.

"Good. Now, use your pocket knife and remove the wires from one of the flashlight's on and off button. We need jumper wires."

"I can do that. Just give me a little time." Stan struggled a little but managed to remove the wires.

"Okay, now use your knife to take the box off of the wall. We have to get to the wiring. Jordan, you still with us? I need you to fight to hold on. What is your daughter's name?"

"Alisa, but we call her Lisa, but I need a nap."

"NO, stay awake. You'll die if you go to sleep. Fight to stay awake. Think about your daughter. Yes, that's good Stan. Now hook the spring's negative post to the positive post on the two batteries and link them together."

"Sure, which one's negative?"

"They're marked. A minus for negative and a plus for positive. Look. Read."

"Wow, they are. I see them."

"That's it. Good, now, stretch the spring out and connect them. Yes, you just linked the two batteries together and doubled the six volts to twelve volts. Okay, now take the wire from the flashlight and make a jumper wire."

"Huh?"

"We're using the two batteries to power the phone up. We're jumping the system."

"Kind of like jumping a car?" Jordan said weakly, "I really wish I could see what you two are doing."

"I'll show you another time."

"Promise me, Josh. I want you to promise me that you'll show me after we get out of here."

Josh's throat closed up but he cleared it. "Sure, I promise, Jordan. I'll show you after we get out of here. Alright, Stan, this takes a light touch. I want you to skin back the coating on the red and the green wire on the phone box."

"This one?"

"Yes." He noted Stan's hand shook, and he started to cut then stopped, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"Look, it's going to be fine, Stan. You've got this and if you mess up and cut the wire, we've got plenty more wire to slice. And I know how to fix the splice in the phone box. Come on, just breathe and then cut about this much of the casing off, about ¼ of an inch. You need to take the coating off but don't cut through the wire. You can do this."

"Yeah, I can do this."

"I know you can." He said and Stan grinned a little as he said, "I'm way glad you're here. I couldn't have done this without you. Tell you what, I'm going to check on Jordan, while you finish up." 

Standing carefully, he cradled his arm and the left side of his stomach, and walked to Jordan and then settled on the floor beside the teen that a few days ago wasn't his friend, but now maybe he was.

"How you doing?"

"I'm tired and it's hard to breath. I'm dying. Just not fast enough."

"Don't even talk like that. No, we are going to win, going to survive this. I've figured out the get us the hell out of here puzzle."

"Maybe, but I don't know. Look, Josh, could you call Stan over?"

"Sure. Stan, could you get a little closer, Jordan wants to talk to you."

"Can't you just talk loud, Jordan? Broken leg here. Hell to get around with, and I'm still skinning wire. Remind me later to get a decent ass pocket knife."

"You can tell him for me, okay, Josh?"

"Sure, I'll tell him."

"First off, I want you to know I'm sorry we didn't give you a chance, and that we came looking for you wanting to beat you up. It was wrong of me, of us."

"It's no big deal, Jordan."

"Yes, it is. And I'm being punished for it, for being a bully. It was wrong of me, and I want to die with a clean slate."

"You're not going to die."

Jordan shut his eyes and fell quiet before he said, "Promise me, Josh? I want you to tell my family that I loved them, all of them, especially my little girl, Alisa. I know I wasn't there when I should have been but tell her that her daddy loved her a lot. Tell her mom to go and get the check. There's a check on me if I'm dead, she can draw it every month to help raise my daughter. Then tell my mom."

"Stop, Jordan, I'm not listening to this. You're not going to die."

"NO! Listen to me. I have to say this. You have to tell my mom, I'm sorry I disappointed her. I know she wanted me to graduate, wanted me to be the first in our family to ever walk the walk. I knew it was important to her. But I can't stay much longer. I feel strange. The worse since I fell. I'm not going to make it."

"Yes, you are. We're going to get this phone working. You have to hold on. Try to stay, to hold on. Stop talking like this. You can tell them yourself. You have to fight to stay here."

Yet, he knew Jordan didn't look good, and he'd checked his legs again earlier and wasn't happy with how pale Jordan had become. Touching his cool neck, he found Jordan's rapid heart rate, and he knew his heart struggled to pump enough oxygen to his tissues.

"I'm done." Stan yelled. "Try it, Josh."

"Okay! Rest, Jordan. We're going to get help. You have to hold on. Just hold ON. And try to stay awake."

"Promise you'll tell them?"

"Yeah, I promise."

And Jordan's eyes fluttered shut.

Carefully, he stood and returned to Stan's side.

"That's good, Stan."

"How's Jordan?"

"Not good. His blood pressure's dropping. We have to get him help or else. Now that you have the wires skinned back, you're going to splice into the red wire, with the wire from the flashlight."

"Splice?"

"Yes, we're connecting the batteries to the phone line now. We're about to jumpstart this phone. I want you to remember that you need to hook up the positive first, so wrap the skinned wire to positive wire on the battery and then hook it to the red wire on the phone box."

Stan started to do it, then drew back and asks, "Will it shock me?"

"No, too low of voltage. Do it."

Inhaling sharply, Stan connected the wire.

"Good, now the other one. Hook the wire from the negative to the green wire."

"The moment of truth!"

Lifting the receiver, his stomach plunged, as he said sharply, "You did it, Stan. Our first break, it has static, it's humming, but we have a dial tone."

"But how are we going to call out since there's no buttons?" Stan's intense face looked at him.

"This phone's never had buttons. It's called a rotary dial telephone. You put your finger in the number and spun the dial. And back in those days, they made a lock that locked the dial down. It kept people from making long distance calls, but of course, like most things in life, there's a hack."

"A hack?" Jordan said from across the room. "I love watching life hacks on Youtube."

"Yeah, this phone sends out pulses over the line when you dial a number. If you dial a five then it sends out five pulses."

"But we don't have a dial" Stan pointed to the broken phone.

"Very true but you can use the switch and get the same results. Look, if I click the hook nine times, wait a second and do one and then one again we should be able to dial 911."

"No way!" Stan shook his head.

"Yes, way! Here goes." He clicked nine times then one then one and got a warning noise.

His shoulders slumped.

"It should have worked. But it's making like an alarm."

"Maybe it takes a number to get out. Maybe you're on a network," Jordan said softly, weakly, and he wondered how much time Jordan had left, how much time he had left. "Josh, last year, my mom worked at a place that we had to dial a nine to get an outside line if you used a phone on their network. Put a nine in front of it."

He clicked nine times, nine times again and a one and another one and the phone rang.

"911! What's your emergency?"

"We're trapped in the old cannery on Twelfth Avenue. The roof collapsed under us. All are hurt and need help and now!"

"911. What's your emergency?"

"Didn't you hear me? We're trapped."

"I've got no location and no answer. Maybe a prank?"

"Can you trace it?" Another voice said.

"There's no number to trace. It say's unavailable."

"Probably a hacker jacking with us. Just hang up on them."

And the phone went dead.

He groaned. "They can't hear us."

And Jordan and Stan groaned too.

"Help me, Stan, trade the handsets."

But the exact same thing happened, and 911 hung up on them and they even traded phones but 911 still hung up on them for the third time.

"No one can hear us, can they?" Stan's face fell. "So much for hope."

"Yeah, we have a phone but no one can hear us. We probably don't have enough volts for them to hear us."

"Well that was pretty useless. Since, we're still going to die down here. Go on and fire that last roach up, at least let me die happy." Jordan said from across the room.

"Okay, we have to think. If 911, isn't going to help us. Who else can we call?"

"Well, exactly how many people's numbers do you know? Me that would be no one." Stan shrugged then frowned.

"Hell, I don't even know my own number," Jordan said quietly. "I have to look my number up to give it out. Okay, I admit it. I depend on my phone to remember numbers. I don't remember any numbers."

"I understand. Me too. We've become a generation of letting our phones be our memory. But wait. I do know a number. Let me think. Wait, I know Coach Queen's number."

"Why would you know his number? He's such a hard ass. And I hate practice. Don't you?"

"Yeah, his long practices get me locked out all the time. But I remember his number because he wrote it on the blackboard the first day of practice. We're supposed to call in if we didn't come to practice. I can see it."

"That was weeks ago. Like you can remember that?"

"Yes, I can. I can see it in my mind. Believe me. Give me a second. I can see the blackboard. Coach's number was long distance and my mind noted that. And it's stupid but my brain takes pictures of certain things. Yes, I see it. Stan, write this number in the dirt on the floor."

He handed him a piece of wood as he raddled off a series of numbers.

Reaching for the old phones, he said, "Okay, here goes nothing."

It was hard to try to press the handle left handed and get it right.

"Damn it's too many clicks again. I keep messing it up."

"Josh, let me try. I have two hands remember."

"Okay. You do it."

And Stan got through on the first time.

"Hello." A pause. "Hello? Is someone there?" And of course, when no one talked, Coach hung up on them.

"Keep calling him back. I have faith. I have to. I've decided I want to live. Coach is smart. He'll figure it out and he'll come. Please let him come and soon. We only have so much battery life."

"I'll keep calling until he comes. I promise."

But Coach hung up repeatedly and then he turned his phone off.

"Keep trying. Fill up his voice mail."

A little while later Stan said, "He's turned his phone back on but now he's not answering. I guess we should give up."

Josh bit his lip before he said, "No. Call him and let it ring three times then hang up. Then do it again. But only let it ring three times."

"Three times? Why three?"

"Because SOS is always in threes. In Morris code it's three short, three long and three short tones and right now three rings is the only chance we have until we run out of battery."

#####OQ#####

"Any luck?" She asked as he opened the door after giving up the search to go home and eat a bite.

"The team helped search for them but so far pretty much nothing. Except, my phone's lost its mind. I think I need an update."

He tossed his stupid phone on the table and she picked it up. "What's it doing? Well to start with it's turned off." She powered his phone back on.

"I know that. I turned it off. I want you wipe my phone's brain. It's been ringing almost constantly for the last half hour. First it would ring and no one was there and the number was unavailable. Then I turned it off and back on. I finally stopped answering it and now it rings three times and then stops and then rings three more and then three more, over and over."

"Oliver, you're sure it's in three's?"

"Of course, I'm sure. Listen there it goes again. I've rebooted it repeatedly and it just keeps doing it. I tried shutting it off and then whoever is calling fills up my voice mail but they're not talking."

The phone ran three times, stopped for probably a full minute and then rang three times again. Grabbing her tablet, she said, "Oliver, threes are the universal code for SOS. I'd say someone's trying to get your attention. Maybe your lost boys?"

"Trust you to know that."

His phone rang and she grinned at him as she answered. "Listen, I think you know that we can't hear you, but if you're calling for help then call back and let the phone ring four times."

He rubbed the back of his neck and sat down beside her and waited, entertaining himself by reaching for her hand and playing with her fingers.

A full minute later, the phone rang four times stopped then rang again, and Felicity pulled away from him and answered. "Okay, you need help. Are you hurt? Let it ring two times if you need medical attention."

"Can you trace the call?"

She tilted her head and began talking with her hands, as his phone rang twice then went silent. "Already on it. When they call back have them stay on the line."

In a few minutes, his phone rang again. Oliver picked it up and said, "You need to stay on the line, we're tracing your location and it will take a couple minutes. Trust me, I know you need help."

"Oliver, I've traced this call back to an old condemned cannery near the docks. Maybe that's where your lost boys are. Maybe they're trapped, which is why they've disappeared."

He nodded. "If this is Jordan, Stan or Josh, I'm on my way. I'm coming for you. If this is any of you then don't call back. I've gotten the message, and I'll be there soon."

And he severed the call and for the first time in about an hour his phone went eerily silent.

"It's them. I think we've found your lost boys." She smiled and tilted her blonde head, and he smiled back.

"Yeah, thanks to you." Turning, he walked into the bedroom. Opening the closet door, he removed a small box and opened it. Reaching, he pulled out a small device and pressed a button and his bow extended.

It felt good, right, in his hand. Reaching, he pulled out his quiver and loaded a couple of different arrows. Reaching, he pulled a green hoodie out of the closet.

Looking up, he saw Felicity staring at him with a slight smile on her face. "Are you sure you need that? This is probably nothing."

"Maybe, but better safe than sorry. And I don't know what I'm walking in to, all I know is I've got three missing kids."

"How exactly are you going to explain that to anyone that sees you with your gear?"

"I can collapse it." He frowned.

"And your quiver? The green hoodie? Do you really want to open that can of worms? This maybe small town but they have the internet you know?"

Sighing, he pressed the button, collapsing the bow and carefully returned it to the box. Hanging up the quiver, he grabbed a hanger and hung the hoodie up too. "You're right as usual, people would ask too many questions. "

"But your tracker's in your boot, right?"

"And in my phone."

"Not that matters since I'm coming with you."

"No, I'll call you as soon as I know something. Call Mae. See if she'll dispatch an ambulance. Ask if they've had any 911 hang up calls today."

"Do you want me to call the cops?"

"Maybe later."

"Then I'll meet you at the hospital. Now go find those lost boys, those teens."

"Yeah!" He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss then headed out.

#####OQ#####

The three of them sat close now as he hoped that Coach hurried.

"Josh, talk," Jordan said weakly. "Tell me how you got so smart. Tell me about California. I always thought it would be cool to go there. And now I don't think I ever will."

"Hang on. Coach is coming. I heard him say he's coming. Tell him Stan."

"He said he knew where we were. Even said our names."

"Good." He said weakly.

Josh reached and squeezed his hand. "It won't be long now. We just have to wait a little while longer. Here let's smoke the last of this. I don't want to get busted with it."

"Sure, okay. But someone talk. Josh?"

"Okay, I guess I was born smart. And California? What can I say? I lived in LA, and my parents had a house near the beach. I grew up playing in the ocean, swimming, surfing, snorkeling and scuba diving."

"You can scuba dive?" Stan settled back against the debris and used his hands to re-position his injured leg, with a small groan, as Josh dug in his pocket and pulled out the last roach and handed it to Stan.

"Yeah, my mom was into it, and she started me in classes at ten. I learned in a swimming pool, and then got to go out in the ocean with Mom. There's a whole other world down under the water."

"I'd like to do that," Jordan said very softly.

"Me too," Stan said as he fashioned another clip and lit the roach and held for Jordan.

"Well, it takes years but I was certified and could have gotten my PADI Open Water Diver certification when I turned fifteen. Mom and I had talked about the dive we were going to go on when I turned fifteen." His throat closed up on him, and he stopped talking as his chest contracted.

"I'm sorry about your parents, Josh."

Now this throat really closed up and he sniffed before he said, "Thanks, Stan."

"Me too. But keep talking," Jordan insisted. "Where did you go to school? Everyone says you went to a special school."

"Another reason people don't like me."

"Yeah, probably." Stan gave him a small grin. "But go on."

"Well my dad put me in a private school for smart kids."

"Smart kids? Huh?" Jordan said then whimpered but he hit the roach one more time.

"Yeah, I worked at my own pace. At that school there's no busy work like at this one. I wrote a lot of computer code back then. I was supposed to go to work for Google after I turned eighteen."

"Seriously?" Stan said.

"Yeah, seriously. That's why I hate school here."

Jordan's voice was weak as he ask, "You're past high school, huh?"

"Yeah, I am," he said quietly. "And I'm past bored at this school. What about you?"

But Jordan didn't answer.

"Jordan?" Stan whited as he reached and touched Jordan arm shaking him. "Josh, he's really cold. No, Jordan, you can't be dead. Don't you dare be dead."

"Move, let me see." Reaching, he felt for Jordan's pulse at the base of his neck. It was slow but still there. "Don't freak out, Stan, he's just passed out. Maybe we should all try to rest. I don't feel well myself. I'm going to be sick again. The pot helped but not enough."

Rising, he moved away from them, as he fell to his knees and puked, dry heaved, until he thought he'd die if the urge to puke didn't stop.

Finally the shakes set in, and he collapsed on the floor, his left side on fire.

"Josh, help is coming. Coach said he's coming. Now you have to hold on."

"I'm not going to make it, Stan. I'm dying."

"Don't say that," Stan insisted and he found that Stan had drug himself over to where he lay on the floor on his right side, laid on his broken arm because his left was too painful even try to put pressure on.

"Help me turn over. I want to lie on my back. Have to show you something."

"Okay." But he screamed as Stan helped him roll off his broken arm.

"Better?"

"No, but yeah. Now Stan, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Josh, I'll do it, for you I'll do it."

"You're going to have to talk for me. Tell them my spleen is ruptured. Tell them I've been bleeding into my stomach for days now. If they wait, I'll die." He slowly raised his too big t-shirt and showed Stan his bruised left side. "But I want them to repair my spleen. Don't take it out because I need it since it helps my immune system. Tell them to repair it."

"My God, Josh, the roof whipped your ass. You're a complete bruise."

"No, not the roof." He gasped as the pain raged now.

"What are you saying?"

He pulled his shirt higher.

"Look, Stan, I never wanted anyone to know but my aunt did this to me. She kicked my ass over bad grades and fighting with you long before the roof did. She beats me up all the time." He looked away, before he said, "And I've lied about it, covered it up but she hurts me all the time. I can't sleep at her house unless I sleep under the bed."

"No way!"

"Yes, way. That's why I'm always late to soccer practice. I can't dress out or shower in front of anyone because someone will notice all the bruises. She hits me all the time, and she was mad because I'm flunking out, and that I was fighting in school again and other things too."

"She hurt you like that, beat you, because you were fighting with me? Truly, Josh, I'm sorry. I never meant for that to happen to you. No one hits me. Well, except you."

"Look it's not your fault. But, I need you to tell them that she kicked me, that she beat me before we fell through the roof. I hate this. I don't want anyone to know."

"Josh, she shouldn't hit you. No one deserves to be hit."

"I don't know about that. I'm pretty bad sometimes, but since I'm dying, I'm going to take her down with me. I need you to tell them she did this to me that I told you. She hits me all the time. I need you to take her down."

"But, why didn't you tell someone? They would have made her stop. You could have told the school counselor."

"Who are they going to believe me or her? She's going to blame this on the roof, the fall, say I fell off my board but she kicked me. Look, I was bleeding before we fell. Tell them. Promise me?"

"Truly, I didn't know. And I thought you were a genius? How can you let her do that to you?"

"I can't stop her, and I'm bad a lot of the time. Maybe I deserve it?"

Stan's face looked pained. "No one deserves to be hit. I've been in lots of trouble and my parents don't hit me, and they're not even my birth parents. But they do ground me. They take my phone and my TV for weeks, but they don't hit me. Josh, they've never hit me. And your aunt shouldn't hit you either."

"Well, I can't stop her. She's bigger than me and fast. And you're a fine one to talk. You hit me."

"You always throw the first punch, and you should have called 911 on her. Have her arrested."

"Who are they going to believe? Me or the director of the county library? She'll say I fell off my board. And if they do believe me then the cops will call the state and children's protective services will split us up. Ruby's past freaked over going back in the system."

"I see her point. I've been in the system and it took years to get out. But you can't let her keep doing this to you. You have to tell."

"Ruby wants us to stay together. All she can talk about is how Mom and Dad would want us to stay together. I almost can't stand it."

"Oh course, she wants you to stay together, to be a family. She's lost her mom and dad, her life, so no way would she want to lose you too."

"Well, I can't help that. Mom and Dad are dead and they didn't have a will. They threw us to the wolves. But none of that matters, since I'm probably not going to make it, but with your help, Stan, I can still stop my aunt, and I can still save Ruby and Will too. Please, tell Ruby, I'm sorry but she has to tell them truth. And tell them both I love them. Promise me, Stan. I'm dying here. I want to stay but it's too hard."

"No, you're going to be alright. Hold on and you can tell them yourself. Coach is coming. I heard both Ms. Felicity and Coach say it. He's on his way and will be here soon."

"I don't think I can wait. I'm bleeding out and Jordan is too. I'm sorry. I've failed us all."

"No you haven't. You figured the puzzle out, and Coach is coming. I heard him say so. Just hold on a little while longer."

"Stan, promise me. I need you to push and not give up because no one wants to hear this. Make sure the state takes my sister and brother away from my aunt because what if she hits them instead of me after I'm gone?"

"You're right she could. If she hits you then she could hit them."

He started dry heaving again before he got control."And I want you to call my Uncle Chad and my Uncle Bill. Ruby has the number and if you can't get it from her then e-mail them and keep e-mailing them until they answer you back."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"They wanted us, you know? Remind them my parents would want them to raise Will and Ruby."

"You too."

"I'm not going to make it. Tell them to come for Ruby and Will." He cried out before he added, "My parents were they're friends since my dad went to work at Google, and we need help. Remind them that Will's named after Uncle Bill. I'm truly dying here. Damn it hurts."

And he screamed. Clutching his stomach, he could stop help himself, as he puked, the dry heaves making him groan, but he managed to get the e-mail address out.

"Remember it, Stan. Help me. Promise."

"I will. I'll remember. I'll do it. I promise." Stan reached and gripped his hand before he said, "Now, what can I do to help you, Josh?"

"There's nothing you can do right now. I can't stand much more of this. I'm dizzy, light headed. Look, you're going to be the only one awake when help finally gets here. You have to be brave, Stan, be forceful if you want Jordan and me to live."

"I'll do it."

"I know. I have faith in you. Tell them I need emergency surgery and a blood transfusion if I have any chance. I'm A positive. Remember, Stan tell them. I'm. . ."

He balled up and screamed out loud.

"A positive. I'll remember. What else? Josh, tell me!"

Panting now, he said, "And Jordan needs blood. Make sure they put an IV in him first thing before they dig him out. He's really dehydrated. We're all dehydrated. Tell them don't wait to type him. I don't know his blood type but get them to give him blood ASAP. He's lost a lot. It's been hours, and I don't know where he's hurt but I know he's lost too much blood, and he's going to bleed when they dig him out."

"Okay." Stan said sharply.

Laughing shortly, he said, "I never thought I'd ever want to save Jordan, since he's never liked me and neither have you. But he has to make it out of here. I promised him."

"Maybe we were wrong. Maybe we never gave you a chance. We could have been friends. I'll tell them, Josh. I promise."

"I would have liked to be your friend, Stan. I missed having friends after I moved here. It's hard to be alone."

"We could still be friends. I want to be your friend, Josh. You just have to hold on a little longer. You're a fighter. Hell, you've been whipping my ass for weeks, you know?"

Clutching his stomach, he screamed again then panted and, "You suck at fighting, Stan. And I'm trying. Tell them your leg has a compound fracture."

"Which means I can wait. You and Jordan will go first. I'll tell them. Okay, Josh? Wait stay awake. Don't go to sleep. Don't leave me alone. Josh."

And he wanted to answer Stan, to reassure him, but the darkness blissfully beckoned.

#####OQ#####

When he slipped through the 'NO TRESPASSING' and 'CONDEMNED' signs at the cannery, his eyes took in the boarded up windows and the fact the building was leaning, looking like the roof had fell in.

The place looked like a good shove could take it down, and he hated having to enter it, since he wondered if the place could collapse any second on him. Frowning, he chose instead to climb the fire escape ladder to the roof and have a look about.

The upside down skateboard was telling, as he viewed the rooftop from the ladder. But, the large gaping hole in the roof worried him about the roof's integrity.

"Josh, Stan or Jordan can you hear me?" He yelled from the ladder and got no answer. Against his better judgment, he stepped carefully out on the flat roof and yelled again. "Hello, can anyone hear me."

From far below he heard a small voice, "Coach? Coach Queen? Here, we're down here."

"Stan?" It sounded like Stan.

"Down here. We're all DOWN HERE!"

Stan's voice faint. Slowly he took another step as he heard Stan yell, "Coach Queen? I knew you'd come. We need help. We're trapped. Locked in some type of storage room. Call 911 NOW. Josh is dying, and Jordan is too. He's bleeding and still buried under the debris."

"Stan?"

"Yes, but, Coach, be careful the roof's rotten."

He pulled his phone out and called 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'm at the old Cannery on Twelve Avenue. Three teens down."

"We are already in route. Please stay on the line.

Stan was still yelling, "Josh has a ruptured spleen. Tell them he needs surgery NOW, and he wants them to repair it. Don't take it out. He wants them to repair it. And he's type A positive. Tell them to hurry."

"Okay, Stan." He put it on speaker phone and tucked his phone in his back pocket.

"Please hurry, Coach, Josh is dying. And Jordan isn't far behind him."

"Stan? Give me a second and I'll get closer."

"No, wait, Coach, don't step," were the last words he heard as a large crack exploded in the air, and the entire world collapsed beneath him. He was vaguely aware that Stan was screaming as debris rained into the building, no doubt on the teens.

Freefalling, he desperately clawed the air, trying to throw himself forward, and just barely managed to grasp a passing rafter with one hand as he fell hard, slamming to a bone jarring stop that felt like he'd just dislocated his left shoulder as his body crashed to a rushing stop.

Damn, he thought, I should have brought the bow, consequences be damned. He looked down at the floor now a good twenty feet beneath him, while his shoulder and hand complained about holding all his weight. Biting back a groan and using his momentum, he swung for an instant, while the rafter he hung from creaked ominously.

By sheer will, he managed to pull his body up one handed, then he forced his other hand to clasp the board above his head. His muscles screamed loudly. Exhaling sharply, he silently gave thanks that the rest of the building hadn't collapsed, bringing the roof's rafters crushing down on top of him.

"Coach!" Stan screamed, "Are you alright? I heard the roof go again. Coach, talk to me. Are you okay? Please be okay."

"Stan, I'm okay." He managed to say as he starting pulling his body across the ceiling. It was almost like doing the money bars, moving hand over hand diagonally across the groaning rafter, using only his upper body to support his weight. Dust and other foreign bodies fell as he worked his way toward a spot where the second floor of the building still existed beneath him.

"Coach! Oh, my god! Is that you hanging from the rafters? You are! I see you. How are you going to get down?"

"Give me a minute, Stan. I'm kind of busy here." His arm muscles bulged as he hung for an instant resting, while thinking he was getting slack in maintaining his upper body strength. Maybe it was time to buy a salmon ladder, and he grinned realizing Felicity would be solidly behind that decision.

And yes, he liked it when she watched.

"Wow! You're one strong man." He heard Stan say as he slowly worked his way across the rafter. Another good twelve feet and the floor looked like it might be stable enough to drop to, but he still had to survive the ten foot fall without blowing out his ankles or knees.

Letting go of one hand, he hung for an instant by his fingertips, to make the fall as short as possible. Silently, he gave thanks that the it was a wooden floor beneath him, since the wood would give a little cushion when he hit, unlike concrete, which was not forgiving at all. However, he hoped that the floor could hold beneath his weight and not give out.

Forcing himself to relax, he exhaled and dropped catlike, bending his knees slightly to absorb the large fall as he landed on the balls of his feet. Years of practice permitted his feet to hit the ground at the same time, allowing his lower body to effectively absorb the fall's impact as he dropped into a squat. However, the force of the fall was too much to keep his feet, so he rolled head over heels before standing.

Heart pumping, he wasted no time but moved on soft feet. He realized the floor could disappear beneath him again at any moment, and he needed to move and now.

"Coach! Are you okay? It sounded like you fell."

"I'm fine, Stan. Now, I'm headed to the bottom floor to get you out. You have to help though. Can you to find something to beat on that locked door, so I can figure out which room you trapped in?"

"I can do that, Coach. But please hurry!"

Cautiously, he made his way down a rickety staircase while the sound of incoming sirens met his ears.

The bottom floor was large and filled with old equipment that no doubt had been used to can fish. Stopping, he listened and heard a tapping sound to his right. However, he knew the paramedics were locked out, and he didn't want them to leave, so first he had to figure out a way to get them into the building.

Crossing the floor he found a locked door. Again he wished for his bow and an exploding arrow, but then he realized all he had to do was turn the button on the door to unlock it, and he grinned as he thought maybe he'd been used to using high-tech arrows for too long.

"Has the ambulance arrived yet?" Came a voice from behind him. 

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he said, "Yes, the ambulance is here."

"Good. Call back if you need further assistance."

"Will do." He pocketed the phone. 

"Wayne," he yelled as he saw the paramedics exiting the ambulance. "Joe, this way. Call the fire department."

"What's up?"

"Three of my team fell through the roof to the bottom floor and according to the kid that's still awake the other two are on the verge of dying. One of them is bleeding and still buried alive so tell them they need to get a move on before we get to dig out a corpse."

"Are these the missing teens?" Joe asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Yeah."

"I'll call it in."

"That's a long way to fall," Wayne added.

"Yeah it is, and they're in a locked room, some type of storage room from what Stan told me."

"Come on, Wayne. They're this way. I just talked to Stan from the roof. I don't know exactly where they are. But I know they're trapped. So, why don't you leave the gurney until we know what we're dealing with." And he turned and headed toward the tapping sound.

He followed the sound down a dark hall until he was forced to get his phone out and turn on his flashlight app to see. Finally, they reached the source of the sound to find a large metal door with a huge rusty padlock on it.

Knocking on the door, he ask, "Stan, can you hear me? We're here."

"I hear you, Coach. Yes, we're trapped in here. Can you get this door open?" Stan beat on the door from the other side.

"Give me minute."

"No way that's budging without some type of tool." Wayne said.

"You got a lug wrench?"

Wayne said, "On my way."

"Coach?"

"I'm here, Stan. We have to get this lock off this door. It will just be a few more minutes. We're coming."

Pulling his phone out, he sent a quick text to Felicity. "Found them. Stan 4 sure alive. Will keep you posted."

Wayne returned with the lug wrench and made short work out of the padlock but when the man pushed on the door, it didn't move.

"Here let me try. Stan, get back from the door. I'm going to kick it in."

"Okay, I'm away."

Lifting his foot up, he kicked the door and it groaned on rusty hinges but the door flung open, slamming against the wall with a crash.

Carefully, he stepped into a stinking room, and for just an instant, he had to shut his eyes as the smell of unwashed human bodies, human waste, and blood met his nose and memories from the past threatened to sweep him away, threatened to overpower him.

The teens, he told himself, help the teens.

Don't you dare flash, he thought.

Whatever you do it.

Don't you dare flash.

And he reopened his eyes and moved, intent on helping his team.

Josh lay prone on the ground, and Wayne went straight to him.

Stan was talking a mile a minute as he moved to Jordan and hunted his pulse.

Carefully, he searched for a pulse in the boy, who he noted was buried under newspapers. Smart idea, he thought, since the papers would help keep his body core from falling.

"Josh has a ruptured spleen. He needs emergency surgery. But he wants them to repair it. Don't take it out since he needs it for his immune system. He's type A positive. Jordan's legs have been bleeding since we fell in here. Josh said if we dug him out he'd bleed to death. Josh said to start his IV before you dug him out. He needs blood and now. And all I have is a compound fracture, but I can wait. Take them first."

"Just calm down, Stan. We're going to help everyone." The teen was clearly stressing.

"Coach, is Jordan still alive? He hasn't talked in a long time."

Finally, he found it. The youth's pulse was thready but still there.

"He's still alive but, Wayne, you better get a move on. He hasn't got long, and I would bet he's going to bottom out soon."

"I'll go get the gurney and guide the help in. Be right back."

Wayne jumped up and was gone.

"Coach, I need to tell you something, to show you something."

"Sure, Stan."

"Look, Coach. Josh's aunt's been abusing him. She's been beating him up. Look under his shirt, he's nothing but solid bruises. I have to make complaint to protective services. And I need to get in touch with his sister, so I can find Josh's uncles in California. He gave me a message for them."

Moving, he crouched down beside Josh's fallen form, and he lifted Josh's dirty t-shirt to find his battered chest.

The bruising was immense as he noted the boy was nothing but starving skin and bones, with bruising, in all stages of healing. His chest was clearly a canvas of yellow, green and dark purple skin.

"You're saying his aunt did this."

"He told me when he thought he was going to die. He told me he didn't fall off his skateboard. But he didn't want anyone to know she was hitting him. He told me that he's been hiding her hurting him from everyone because he didn't think anyone would believe him."

"Because of who is aunt is?"

Stan nodded.

"Okay, but, Stan, let's just keep this to ourselves right now."

"But he asked me to turn her in."

"No, let me. It would be better coming from me but trust me; I'll make sure she never hits him again. Now, not a word about this to anyone else."

Stan's eyes met his and he nodded. "Okay, but Coach? How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I know you fell through the roof. I saw you hanging from the rafters. That ceiling had to be ten foot and you're not hurt."

"Stan, we'll talk about that later. For now just know I was looking for you. Your team was looking for all of you, and I'm glad I found you in time."

"You didn't answer the question, Coach."

"And I'm not going to. But that's a nice field splint on your leg by the way."

"Josh knew how and talked me through it. Then I splinted his arm. Josh dug himself out of the rubble using leverage and then dug me out before I suffocated. I was completely buried to begin with, even my head."

"Whose idea was the newspapers?"

"Josh knew to use them to make Jordan live longer, to keep him warm, and he taught me how to take two ancient phones and a couple of batteries and make that phone over there work well enough that we could call you for help. Josh is the only reason we're all still here. And, Coach, thanks for coming."

"Of course, I came. You're part of my team."

Wayne and Joe were back with two gurneys and a fireman was carrying a backboard.

"Stan, we're going to haul you out on a backboard and you get a ride in the fire truck. Now let's get you ready to be loaded up."

"But, I want to stay with them."

"You're the easiest one to take first. Go on, Stan. I'll stay."

Men were streaming into the room now, and he went to work helping to dig Jordan out of the rubble, while Wayne tried to get an IV in his arm.

"Damn it, he's so dehydrated he has no veins at all," Wayne complained.

"Same over here. This kid's bleeding out internally, and I can't get a line in," said Joe, who was working on Josh.

"We need to warm them up. Do you have any heat packs?" He looked at Jordan's arm.

"No."

"Well, then use gravity. Hang his arm down, then place the tourniquet and leave his arm hanging for a couple of minutes and you should be able to find a vein."

Wayne did just that to Jordan and then said, "Got it. That's what I'm talking about. IV in. I wish I had blood but the saline will help."

Josh had been moved to the gurney, and Joe said, "Me too. Thanks, Oliver. I'll have to remember that trick. Where'd you learn that?"

Again the old memories threatened, but he reached in his pocket and touched her hair tie, grounded himself to now, as he said, "I read it somewhere."

A few minutes later, Jordan left leg had been dug out, and he had a major bleed. "Pressure, put pressure," Wayne was yelling as Joe worked to control the bleeding with a large bandage as his gloved hands put pressure on the wound.

Meanwhile, they uncovered Jordan's right leg and again he was bleeding. It took a few minutes but they managed to get the bleeding under control.

"Let move," said Wayne. "Thanks all but we've got to get both of them to the hospital. Both of them need blood and now. Jordan is probably already in hypovolemic shock and his heart isn't pumping enough blood to his organs."

Standing, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of Josh and Stan's phone. Turning, he took pictures of the missing roof and the room they'd been locked in.

Felicity would love this one. Then he started calling the teen's parents. And he couldn't wait to have a little talk with one, Janie Hall.

#####

 And as always thanks for the read and please review if you have time. Reviews make me happy and I write more when I'm happy. And if you have time let me know if the rescue was believable.


	39. Chapter 39

####OQ####

Josh realized he was riding in an ambulance. A siren screamed, almost hurting his ears, and the sensation of moving, rather speeding at a fast rate, flowed through him. The EMT lips moved, and he could almost hear the man as he talked, encouraging him, while he struggled to find reality.

"Come on, Josh. Stay with me. We're almost there now. Just hold on a few more minutes."

Opening his eyes, he saw Jordan strapped to a body board and secured with belts to the bench seat, as the man said, "Move it, Joe, I'm losing this one. His blood pressure's bottoming out. He's not going to last."

Voices, he heard lots of voices. He noted the beeps and alarms sounded as bitter cold air hit his body and his clothes disappeared.

They were cutting his clothes off him, and he threw his arms out to stop them but it was too late.

"Move him on three. One, two, three."

And he felt a soft bed beneath him.

"The bed feels awesome."

Yet no one heard him.

"Move people. We've no time."

"We're losing him. His blood pressure's dropping."

"Roger, get me some O and then type him since we've got two that need blood. Rhonda, get his vitals stat."

He was in and out. And he couldn't think.

"Ruptured spleen. No doubt massive internal bleeding. His right arm's broken and his blood pressure's dropping."

"The second one's in worse shape. It doesn't sound like he'll last the night."

"Room three?"

"Yes."

"Move people, Kate, call surgery tell them they've got an incoming. This one can't wait. Get him prepped stat."

Then he seemed unable to control anything, lingered sometimes near consciousness but was unable to break the surface and truly wake up.

Bright lights hurt his eyes, and he was freezing cold and disorientated.

"Josh, his name's Josh right?"

"Let me look at the chart. Yeah, he's Josh Peters. He's one of those three teens that just came in."

"The ones that fell two stories and were trapped a couple of days in the old cannery. Lucky kids to be alive."

He wanted to say, not lucky, I'm smart, and I had help, but he couldn't force the words out.

"I've heard the last one they brought in probably isn't going to make it. He was buried for too long."

Wait, no, not Jordan, his mind tried desperately tried to work.

"I heard he's got crush syndrome."

Was he floating? It seemed like it.

Maybe?

He couldn't focus, couldn't wake up.

"Crush syndrome. That's bad. Where?"

"His legs. Felts wants to amputate. He's worried someone will sue him for malpractice if he tries to save the legs and things go south."

NO, his mind screamed but again he couldn't talk.

"Hey, how long was this one missing?" Something cold rubbed his side and then the middle of his stomach and he wanted to push the cold away but he couldn't lift his hands.

"A couple of days."

"Well I'd say some of his injuries are a lot older than that. Look at the coloring. Someone's been using him for a punching bag."

"I saw on his x-rays he's got some old cracks on his ribs. What the hell?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Look at his bruising pattern. That bruise on his chest has to be at least two weeks maybe older. Chest bruises heal slower."

"Maybe he's just clumsily."

"That clumsily? I don't think so."

"Crap, it looks like we'll going to have to make the call."

He groaned. And someone opened his eyelid and said, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Josh," he managed to get out.

"That's good. Now Josh, tell me, how'd you get these bruises? Has someone been hitting you?"

He barely got the word out.

"Aunt."

"What'd you say? Could you say that again?"

Reality escaped him and he couldn't answer.

"Never mind," boomed a deep voice. "Put him out. I need to do something about his spleen before he bleeds out. And he's barely stable now. Then Felts can come in and do something about his arm."

"Josh, I want you to count backwards from a hundred. Can you do that for me?"

The words refused to come out as everything merged together and a mask came down on his face.

Floating now, time went away, disappeared, and he drifted, slipped under into blessed nothingness.

His arm and lower stomach nagged every time he almost surfaced and his stomach felt like someone'd lit it on fire but then he'd fall into the painless darkness again.

"Josh, can you hear me? I need you to cough. Come on, try to cough, Josh. It's time to wake up."

"NO."

"Josh. Come on, cough for me."

"Go away. Let me sleep."

Yet, against his will, he struggled to wake up.

"I know you want to sleep, but you have to wake up and cough. You've been under a long time. Try to cough and clear your lungs."

He coughed a little then silence followed as the blackness called and once more, he slipped beneath and embraced the quiet oblivion.

But the damn voices continued pestering him, continued insisting he wake up, pulling him back out of the darkness.

"Come on, Josh, time to rejoin the living. Time to wake up."

Pain lay in consciousness' edges, and he'd had more than enough pain lately. He didn't want to wake up and hurt again.

"STOP." He growled.

"No, there you are. Come on, open your eyes, Josh."

Struggling, he blinked repeatedly against the blinding white light.

"How are you feeling?" Asked a nurse in bright yellow scrubs.

His tongue seemed too thick, his mouth too dry. "Like shit. And that light's hurting my eyes. Can you turn the damn thing off?" He slung his good arm over his eyes to block out the light.

"You'll be watching your mouth while under my care, young man."

"Sorry, but those damn lights are hurting my eyes and I've got cotton mouth."

"You need to watch your mouth but I've got you. Here I'll dim the lights."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome and considering you came in beyond majorly dehydrated and on the verge of dying, that's to be expected."

Groaning, he tried to turn on his side and felt the pull of wires and tubes on his body, which ceased all his movement instantly as pain filled him.

"Careful there, you need to be still. You've got a lot of tubes in you right now." She added a piece of tape to the tube on his arm. "And it wouldn't be fun for either of us if I have to stick you repeatedly to get your IV back in. I'm amazed Joe managed to get a line in you to begin with."

He squinted as the room slowly came into view. "Yeah, that'd be a bitch. I don't want you to poke me over and over. I'll be still."

"Now, you're waking up. Hey Josh, my name's Becky, and I'll be your RN tonight. And again watch your mouth, since I don't put up with a potty mouth and you and me are gonna be besties at least for tonight."

She wrote her name on a dry erase board that hung on the wall, and he tried to understand her words, as he processed that the sheets beneath him were pleasingly cool.

His good hand clutched the white blanket then the sheet. They were white and crisp and wonderful, maybe blissful after spending months sleeping wherever he landed and especially after the last few days.

Monitors beeped and he saw he had three IV's tubes feeding into his arm.

One held clear fluid.

Probably saline, he thought, as he eyed another small bag that held no doubt held an antibiotic.

The third bag hung dark red, and he knew it must be blood. Good, he had a feeling he'd needed blood.

"Now you're awake." Said the woman as she adjusted his tubing.

"Guess I lived."

"By a dangling thread."

"Yeah, my spleen was doing it's very best to kill me."

Biting his lip, he realized that his aunt had done her best to kill him and this time she'd almost succeeded.

"That it did. Now, I'm here for you until my relief comes in at seven. How's your arm feeling?"

"Hurts and it weighs too much." Squinting, blinking repeatedly, he opened his eyes to find a new white cast on his right arm and a device clipped on his pointer finger.

"That's the cast. You'll get used to it. And just think your friends can sign it."

The thought that he didn't have any friends crossed his mind but then he thought of Stan and Jordan.

Memories rushed back, intensely flooded back.

They'd been trapped, dying and he, no, they'd done it. He'd finally figured it out how to get out of that damn room. Stan had managed to make the old phones work. But, it hadn't been his hands that'd finished making those dinosaur phones work. No, it had been Stan who'd skinned the wires back, and Stan who'd tapped out their SOS, since his broken right arm had made it nearly impossible for him to do. They would have all died if they'd have had to depend on him to tap out the SOS. And Coach must had finally came and gotten them help. His eyes swept the glass room he was in, while his fuzzy brain attempted to come up to speed.

"I'm in intensive care?"

"Well, we call it Critical Care, but yes, you are. And I need you to be as still as you can be. You've had a hard last few days, and you need to keep your spleen if you can. It's a major part of your immune system. And what are you fourteen?"

"Fifteen, almost sixteen and I'm wicked thirsty. Can I have a drink? And maybe some chap stick? My lips are chapped. And I'm aware I need my spleen. It recycles my old red and white blood cells and my platelets are stored there." Licking his dry, chapped lips, he clutched the smooth sheets and tried to stay awake but he found that he couldn't help but almost nod off.

He startled awake to the words, "Most people don't even know they have a spleen let alone what it does. And are you planning to be a doctor?"

"No, computer tech, but that doesn't mean I can't know things."

"Smart are you? Well your right and your spleen also fights the bacteria that causes meningitis and pneumonia. And if they remove it, you'll have to go on a daily antibiotic, which also puts you at risk for autoimmune problems. So, don't thrash around because no one wants that to happen to you."

"About that drink?"

Opening his eyes, he watched as she adjusted his tubing with the words, "Sorry, your doctor left orders that he doesn't want you to eat or drink for a few hours since you could easily end up back in surgery. All you can have are a few ice chips. Enough to wet your mouth, but I can get you some chap stick."

With a plastic spoon, she fed him a few ice chips and the cold burst of wet ice tasted heavenly, but then memory struck him, nudged him, and he attempted to sit up.

"Wait! What about Jordan? Where's Jordan? Is he okay? Did he live? And what about Stan?"

"Whoa, calm down. I'm serious about you not moving around. How about you just worry about you right now? Can you rate your pain?"

"Jordan was bleeding and unconscious the last time I saw him. He was dying. Did he make it? Is he alive? There were three of us trapped together. Then I swear I heard something about his legs. Someone was talking about taking his legs? Did they take his legs? Something about crush syndrome? I need a laptop, a tablet or a smart phone. I want to look something up."

She put her hands on him, trying to lay him back down. "Calm down, Josh, I need you to calm down. Chill out, you just came out of surgery. Talk to me about your pain. If you're going to rate your pain between one, being no pain and ten the worst you have ever felt what would you rate it?"

"A seven maybe an eight. But, I don't care. I can do pain but I need to know about Jordan. Did they take his legs? Did they amputate his legs? Please tell me NO. And Stan's leg was broken, but he wasn't dying. But what happened? What about Jordan? Please tell me, I want to know now!"

"I heard there were three of you, but I'd have to ask about the others. You're the first one to come up so others must still be in surgery. Now stop thrashing around or you're going to end up back in surgery yourself. You've got stitches on the inside and outside you know?"

He realized that the middle of his abdomen had a large bandage because he could feel the tape pulling on his skin.

"Now, you need to calm down, Josh. If you don't, I'm going to put you back to sleep."

"I don't want to go back to sleep. I want to know about Jordan."

 "Okay, I get it. He's your friend. I'll find something out for you. Now about you lay back and rest, and I'll get you something for your pain and try to find out what is going on with your friends."

"I'll be okay. I can handle pain. I'm used to it. But I need you to find out about Jordan. I promised him I'd save him.  You don't understand. I have to know."

"Okay, just rest, Josh. Now, I want you to shut your eyes and rest. Come on. Calm down and shut your eyes." She'd moved and he saw her stick a needle in his IV.

"No, I don't want to go to back to sleep."

And the world went away.

He must of slept for a while but when he woke up, a woman wearing a nice business jacket was standing beside his bed, and he knew even before she opened her mouth who she was.

"Hi, Josh. My name's Kim Reed"

"Go away. I don't feel well and I don't want to talk to you." Shit, he thought, I should have kept my mouth shut.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Can't we do it later? Where's my nurse?" He shut his eyes, hoping that she would think he'd fell asleep and go away.

"Josh, I know you don't feel well, but I'm from Child Protective Services, and we've had several reports of bruises on your chest and back, and we have to investigate." She pulled a small tape recorder out of her bag.

"We always record these types of interviews."

Figures, he thought, his normal bad luck, he'd lived long enough for the state to show up. Now, Ruby would freak if he talked. Oh, why had he told Stan?

"Well, I don't want to talk to you right now. I don't feel well. And could you talk in first person? You're creeping out me even if I'm kind of high since I'm on pain killers. Can we come back later?"

The woman gave him a slight smile but shook her head. "No, I'm sorry we can't. I'm required by law to make this visit. Now I'd like to see your chest, Josh, and your back. I see old bruising on your forearms too. We've had several reports of suspicious bruising areas on your body, and I'm going to need to take pictures and some video."

"Don't bother since I look like I fell through two stories and that's just what the lawyer will say. Okay, I'm pretty beat up. And she's just going to say I fell off my board before that. All this is going to do is get me in more trouble. Now, I want you to leave. Get out of my room." His voice was rising.

"I can't. We've had several calls about the suspicious bruising areas you have. Did you fall off your board, before your accident, Josh?"

"No," he said softly. "I'm better than that. I only wreck when I try to do something stupid. But now I still want you go. Leave."

"I'd say the some of the bruising on you forearms is over a week old. Come on, Josh, tell me the truth were you protecting your head when you got those bruises? They look like kick marks."

He could see himself down on the ground and her kicking him, repeatedly kicking him, while he tried to protect his head. The rage within him burned brightly at the hopelessness of his situation. He was damn if he did and damned if he didn't.

If he told he went to foster care, and Ruby would hate him because they'd get split up. If he lied and covered then they stayed together, and he could find a new place to sleep.

"Josh, are you listening to me. I want you to tell me how you got these bruises?"

"And I want you to get out! I want you to leave me alone?" He screamed at her.

His nurse slid the door open.

"Make her go away. I don't want to talk to her." He tried to sit up, and he groaned as he pulled on his tubes and his stomach muscles complained. "I mean it go away. I'm not talking to you. You're just going to make everything worse. I fell through a roof. I got in a fight at school. I bruise easy. That's all I'm saying, now go away." He groaned and clutched his stomach.

Becky rushed over and scolded him, "You are going to pull something loose if you keep thrashing around. And you're upsetting him, so you need to leave. Josh, come on lay back down and be still."

"I want all of this to all go away." He groaned as his nurse pushed him back against the pillows as his stomach tightened, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

"Kim Reed. I'm from Child Protective Services, from the state. We have received a complaint concerning suspicious bruising areas on his body, and I have every right to be here. I need to interview him, and I want to take pictures."

"You're not taking any pictures of me. I won't let you." He knew he was being unreasonable but he didn't care. He had to find a way out this problem, needed to figure out how to cover this up. "I think I'm going to throw up."

The nurse moved to hand him a pink dishpan with the words. "You out. You're just upsetting my patient, and I'm telling you to leave. This is a Critical Care unit and you will have to wait until my patient is feeling better."

The woman voice was hard and brittle. "Fine, but I'll be back. Josh, maybe you should think about telling the truth. I can help you if you'll be truthful with me. I'll leave you to rest for a little while, while I go and find your aunt and siblings."

Fucked, he thought. I am fucked now. What am I going to do? He bite his bottom lip knowing that damn woman was about to reboot his entire life, and he just hoped he didn't crash, as he began to try to vomit.

#####OQ#####

A woman in teddy bear scrubs entered the waiting room, walking beside the gray-haired surgeon dressed in green. The man looked weary and wore glasses. The woman's face wore a deep frown and she held a clipboard in one of her hands and a clutched a pen so tightly in the other that her knuckles were white, and Oliver thought, this doesn't look good.

"Jordan Franks' family."

"Here, I'm his mother, Jeannie Gardner. How is he?"

Jordan's pregnant mother stood and handed the barely sleeping toddler off to an older child, who looked about twelve, as she stood and swept her bottled dyed red and black hair back from her eyes.

Watching, he saw her swallow hard as all eyes in the crowded waiting room looked on. A lot of his team were there, along with several of Jordan's street friends and what had to be other family members. Stan's parents had been called back about twenty minutes ago with the news that Stan was headed up to critical care for observation and was stable. He had a feeling the news about Jordan wasn't going to be that good.

"Mrs. Gardner, My name's Dr. Felts. I'm your son's orthopedic surgeon, and I need to speak to you privately."

She frowned before she said, "You can say what needs to be said in front of these people. Each of them were out there looking for my boy. They care about him. Go on and spit it out. I don't care if they know. What's going on with Jordan?"

"No really, I think this would best be said in private."

"Go on, just spit it out. Is he going to die?"

"That's a possibility. He's not doing well and your son's developed crush syndrome after his legs were compressed by debris for almost 48 hours." The man looked over his glasses at her. "Frankly, I don't believe we're going to be able to save his legs."

"But Stan told his coach that Jordan's legs had circulation, and they only left him buried so he didn't bleed out."

"I agree that he had some blood circulation to his feet, and yes, he' have bleed to death of those teens would have dug him out. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have crush syndrome. Parts of his legs have died from being buried under debris so long. I mean 48 hours is a very long time. Usually after four hours, there's not much hope. And frankly, he's already going downhill. He's lost a lot of blood, so much, I honestly don't know how he's still here. But since he is, I need you to make a difficult decision."

"About what?"

"I know this is appalling, but I want you to give me permission to take his legs off now."

Several people inhaled sharply and his own stomach plunged, as he tried to wrap his mind around Jordan losing not one but both of his legs.

Beside him, Felicity covered her mouth and then reached for his hand, laced her fingers with his and squeezed tightly.

"His legs? What are you saying?"

"I think the best course of action would be to take both his legs and now."

"You have to be out of you mind. There's no way!"

"I know this is harsh but if we move quickly and take his legs, he'll have a better chance of surviving this. I just need you to sign this paperwork to give us permission."

Releasing his hand, Felicity reached for her phone, texting someone. And he couldn't help himself, he stood up and walked over to Jordan's mother. And Felicity soon followed.

"Wait, you mean amputation? You want to take his legs off?"

"Yes. Both of his legs just below the hips. I'll try to leave him enough he can be fitted for prosthetic legs but I'm not sure if that's even possible.

"Both of his legs?" She shook her head savagely and held her hand up as though trying to stop his words. "Not no but hell no. I can't do that to him."

"I understand this is a hard decision but in my professional opinion his legs can't be saved, and if we take both of his legs he might have a chance of survival."

"Survival! That's not survival. Put him in a wheel chair at fifteen? Are you crazy? I refuse to do that to him. I want a second opinion."

"You're entitled to that but Jordan's legs are severely fractured in several places. He's bleeding internally, with lots of soft tissue damage and it's going to take numerous surgeries to repair the damage."

"Then do more surgeries."

"You need to understand that if we try to save his legs the repairs will be extensive to complete nerve and tendon repairs and then there's a good chance infection will set in, and he'll lose his legs anyway. What you're asking me to do is torture him before we have to take them off anyway.  Taking them now will vastly increase his survival chances and be easier on him in the long run."

"No, I won't do that to him. He's only fifteen. Set his broken legs, stop the bleeding and give him a chance. I refuse to let you take both of his legs. It's unthinkable. NO, I won't even consider it.""

"Let me try to explain." The man was clearly trying to make her understand. "Mrs. Gardner, his legs were compressed, crushed in a lot of places for over 48 hours, so he's already lost muscle and has tissue damage due to lack of circulation. And that's not the worst of it. When we returned the blood flow to his injured limbs, he already had dead tissue and his broken bones were starting to break down. Think of it like meat starting to rot."

The doctor was clearly not enjoying this discussion as he pulled his stethoscope from his pocket and began to worry it before he went on, "Now his legs are slowly poisoning his body. The proteins and potassium from the expired muscle tissue are releasing toxins into his body, and if they enter the bloodstream, he'll go into organ failure. And he's already developed acute compartment syndrome in places from the fall's blunt force so clearly amputation's his very best chance for survival."

"You're right, I don't understand. I never finished high school and you're talking way over my head. I want you to at least try to save his legs. He's fifteen for God's sake. If it comes down to him dying later then maybe I'll sign. But my boy needs his legs."

"Why don't you understand? Look, I know this is hard to grasp but the debris restricted his blood flow while he was trapped. His cells were oxygen deprived and nutrients and waste products continued to accumulate causing a very toxic environment to his cells. His body's poisoning itself right now. His legs have to come off if he has any chance of living."

"Jordan's strong. Maybe that won't happen. You said the word if. I heard you. I'm not signing." The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest on top of her belly.

The surgeon shook his head. "I can almost guarantee he's going toxic, and the contaminants will enter his bloodstream. His kidneys will then fail from the debris in his blood or his heart will quit. If we take his legs now, he'll have somewhat of a chance and even then I can't be sure he'll live."

"He's fifteen. I'LL not agree to taking both of his legs off without at least trying to save them. FIFTEEN! Do you remember being fifteen? Hormones raging? Making stupid decisions like underage drinking or drugs but he doesn't deserve this. Please, there has to be a way to save his legs?"

Jordan's mom had started to cry openly now. She wiped tears repeatedly from her face.

"It's not a matter of if he deserves this, and I understand that you don't want to take his legs, but are you willing to bury him with both of his crushed legs?" The doctor said harshly.

Felicity interrupted, "Why couldn't you put him on dialysis now? Why couldn't you help his kidneys before they fail? If you read about the Haiti and Turkey massive earthquakes a lot of people were crushed in buildings and even though they were rescued from the debris and didn't seem to be hurt a lot of them died unexpectedly later from kidney failure."

"And you are exactly?" The doctor said rudely as he stuffed his stethoscope back in his pocket.

Felicity took a step toward him. "I'm a concerned friend who understands what you're saying. Someone who's read a lot today about people who were crushed in earthquakes, and I read how they died from the toxins caused by the dead tissue clogging up their kidneys. I totally understand what you are telling her, but what if we put him on dialysis before his kidneys failed? You know clean his blood. Something has to be done other than taking his legs. I mean you have to at least try. Where's your compassion? You have to at least try."

"No and we're wasting precious time here. His muscles are swelling. Compartment syndrome is occurring because the muscle cells were deprived of blood by the debris and then he became dehydrated. And his dehydration is forcing his cells to uptake too much fluid at once, and that's adding pressure to his cells on top of other circulation problems."

"I understand that Jordan's skin's too small right now and the pressure is compromising what's left of his circulation and it's damaging the soft tissue in his legs."

"Exactly but even if we could save his legs, he'll have temporary or maybe permanent muscle and nerve damage. Regardless, I think the best option would be to take his legs now rather than later."

Felicity had her tablet open before she added, "And what if you did fasciotomy to help save his muscles? You could operate."

"Yeah,  please can't we try that? I don't even know what is it but if will help save his legs, I'm game." And he thought that Jordan's mother was standing there grasping at straws. And he couldn't blame her.

"That's a lot of surgery to put him through, and he's barely stable. You're talking a lot of risks now."

"Like taking his legs off isn't major a risk?" Felicity stood ramrod as she added, "According to the internet, fasciotomy treatment relieves acute compartment syndrome. The surgeon cuts the muscle compartment open to allow the muscle tissue room to swell."

"Then do it. I'll sign for you to do that."

"I know what it is and you people aren't doctors. And sometime the internet's dangerous. It puts too much information in the layman's hand."

"Ignorance is dangerous too." Felicity quipped. "And, Jordan needs his legs. He's fifteen, barely starting life and it says here that fasciotomy will help relieve the pressure from the trauma and it could save his legs then you should at least try to save his legs."

"Please," said his mother, "He's only fifteen. He deserves a chance. Please, help him."

"I agree that the procedure decreases the pressure and sometimes it helps restores the blood flow. But complications may set in including muscle loss, infection, nerve damage, scarring and after putting him through all that, I might still have to take his legs off, and there's still the possible kidney and heart failure. No, the risks are too great. I refuse to try."

"Fine, I don't care. But I'm not letting you cut his legs off." Jordan's mother crossed his arms in front of her chest.

"You're making a serious mistake here."

Her face hardened as she said, "No I'm not. I hate it but if need be, I'll bury him with the legs he was born with. Do the fasca . . . , whatever it's called, do dialysis, do whatever you have to do, but at least try to save his legs."

Like Moses parting the waters, Mae walked toward them, with the solid words, "If I may interrupt, Dr. Felts, I've come to tell you that I've contacted Dr. Joel Walters in Dallas after I heard of Jordan's accident. Dr. Walters, is a Trauma Orthopedic Surgeon, who specializes in soft tissue and bone trauma. He's dealt with crush syndrome before. He's boarding a jet in just a few minutes to fly here and try and save that boy's legs. I offered to airlift Jordan to Dallas but instead he suggested that we ice his legs down, and he'll come to us."

Turning she said, "Dr. Felts, what I need you to do is call the man." She reached into her pocket and pulled a piece of paper out. "He wants to talk to you, no doubt to get your input and to get up to speed before he gets here. I think he wants pictures and maybe video."

The man snatched the paper from her fingers with the words, "Fine I'll give him a call and then I'm off this case, and I just want to say I think you're making a mistake by waiting, by not taking his legs off now."

"I'll duly note that you wanted to take his legs off. And, Robert, I understand that this is a hard call."

Turning back to Jordan's mother, Mae clearly dismissed the man, and Oliver refrained from smiling, as in normal Mae fashion she didn't miss a beat. "Now Mrs. Gardner, what we're doing right now is icing his legs, which will help with the muscle swelling, and the cold will slow the toxins from the dead tissue hopefully keeping them from entering his bloodstream and destroying his organs. Dr. Walters also advised us to start dialysis to help clean his blood, while we'll continue to closely monitor his electrolyte levels and his urine output. We're pushing blood  into him and prepping him for emergency surgery as we speak."

"But you're not going to take his legs right now?"

"Hopefully not, but we'll let Dr. Walters make that decision when he gets here since he's the expert. But Mrs. Gardner if he says we have to take Jordan's legs, there'll be no other choice. I want you to prepare yourself for that possibly. And I expect you to sign the papers."

The pregnant woman nodded, sniffed, and wiped tears. "Can I see him?"

"Of course, I want you be with him before he goes into surgery. Someone will come and get you soon. I promise. And yes, it would be good for someone to sit with him until then. Let him know you're there for him. Even if he can't hear you. Just hold his hand. Help him through this. Try to give him strength."

"Thank you, Mae." The woman reached out and touched Mae, and the older woman gave Jennie Gardner a quick hug and as he watched Mae whispered something in the women's ear.

"You're welcome. Now, Oliver, can I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Mae."

"Walk with me, Oliver and Felicity." And the whirlwind of a woman didn't wait as she walked down the hall.

"Oh, you want me too." Felicity grabbed her tablet and large purse and followed, and he followed both of them.

"Felicity, thanks for the text," Mae said. "I was already on the phone with Dr. Walters but you made me aware that Felts was pushing for amputation, which I'm not saying he's wrong. Jordan's legs are in bad shape. God, I delivered that boy. He was one of my last ones. I hope this will pan out since this is terrible. But I agree we have to do everything possible to save that boy's legs."

Mae turned and opened a conference door, and he frowned wondering what she was up to. Moving to a cabinet, she pulled out a blood pressure cuff, and he almost groaned out loud as she  removed her stethoscope from around her neck and he sighed loudly, knowing what was coming.

Waving her hand at a chair, she said, "Oliver, assume the position. You missed an appointment with me this week."

"He missed an appointment?"

"Yes, he did." And Mae frowned hard at him.

"And I heard you fell through a roof today."

"Oliver!" Felicity said sharply. "Seriously and you didn't mention it?"

"Stan's got a big mouth and it's no big deal. And Mae, could you not start? Now's hardly the time."

"Are you hurt and hiding it?" He watched her eyes swept over him. Then Felicity looked him straight in the eye, and he broke eye contact and looked down at his feet. "Okay, my shoulder's not that happy right now. I might have dislocated it but it's back in place now."

Mae shook her head. "Give me your left arm, Oliver. And how are the nightmares? Do you have a headache right now?"

He bit his lip and looked down. "The same. And maybe a small one. I'm sure it's nothing. And Felicity, could you stop glaring at me like that?"

"Which means I'm going to raise the dose. What are you taking?"

"Fifteen milligrams and I'm dragging. I don't want a higher dose."

"Oliver, I swear if you don't start taking better care of yourself. Are you sure that your shoulder's alright?" Felicity said with a frown.

"Yeah, but Mae, I."

"But nothing, you'll adjust. Now shut up, and put both feet on the floor, I want a good reading." And Mae pumped the blood pressure painfully cuff up on his arm.

He frowned as the cuff's pressure squeezed hard and hurt his arm, while his own heartbeat pained him,  with every beat of his heart.

"Did you take your meds tonight? You're numbers are too high."

"No, I admit I haven't been home and haven't taken any of my meds."

"You're right, Mae, he's missed his evening dose by several hours now. How high is he?" She reached and took his hand and squeezed, while her eyes found his.

"165 over 110. Both of which are too high. He's headed straight toward another hypertensive emergency."

"I am not, and remember I'm sitting right here in the room, you two. Right here. Now, stop talking about me like I don't exist." Pointing at his chest, he couldn't stop the dark growl in his voice.

"Oliver, I'm going to go get you some blood pressure medicine, right now. And, I want you to start carrying a few of your pills with you. You can't just skip a dose when you feel like it when you're border line stroke material here. Do I need to take you to meet the stroke victims again? Remember any one of them could easily be you. Or you could have a heart attack and let me tell you. Dead meat, don't beat and you'll find out that dead meat makes it hard to breathe and your being in shape days will be over."

"I haven't had a heart attack or a stroke." He said darkly.

"YET," Mae said sharply. "Believe me, you've been lucky. And you need to check your blood pressure more often. Felicity, if you want him to live then you'd better learn to nag him about his numbers. High blood pressure's called the silent killer for a reason, and a lot of people have no sign of a problem until it cripples them, but let me tell you that the reality is that it normally it doesn't kill you it just steals your life because it clearly disables you. Can you say the word 'stroke.' Oliver?"

Felicity moved and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed and he winced. 

"I saw that."

"I'm okay." Catching her eye, he tilted his head slightly, as she gave him a slight smile before she winked at him, and he gave her a small grin back, as he felt them connect, making his smile larger.

"I'm going to raise your dose to 20 milligrams," Mae said knocking the smile straight off his face. "And you're about to top out here but then you're a big guy."

"No, you're not raising the dose again, Mae."

"Yes, I am! Which of us is the doctor here? You or me?" Mae put her hand on her hip and shook her finger at him. "You'll do what I tell you to do. Who's your doctor?"

"You are, Mae, but I can barely stand the dose I'm on. You're killing me. I'm dragging. I have no energy."

"You'll adjust. I promise."

Damn, why didn't his foolish blood pressure come down? It wasn't like he wasn't trying. He'd avoided salt. He'd taken his stupid pills, well most of the time. He'd eaten more fresh vegetables. He'd done his best to lower his stress.

And none of it was working.

Alright he'd missed a dose here and there but it wasn't like he did it on purpose. What more could he do? And his blood pressure should be better by now. He wanted this problem to be over, wanted to be able to solve this and go on with his life.

"We've had this discussion. You're still having nightmares, aren't you?"

He ducked his head, refusing to answer her, refusing to admit to his nightmares.

"I'll take that response as a YES. And your blood pressure's still too high and you're tempting fate. I'm upping your dose."

"NO. Come on, Mae, don't."

"The discussion is closed."

Felicity reached and squeezed his hand with a smile. "Oliver, yes, you can do this. Your blood pressure's still too high, and we have to do something about that. Look at me." He forced himself to find her blue eyes, as she added, "I promise we'll get through this. I'm right here with you. You  can do this. 

He growled.

"Oliver, do you want to die and leave me alone?"

"Don't guilt me, Felicity."

"I'll do what I have to do to keep you with me, to keep beside me. I want you in my future." She caught his eyes.

"Stay put. I'll get you a dose so you can take your meds and your numbers will come down." Mae said.

Standing, he walked to the window and clutched the windowsill, staring out into a graveyard, and he couldn't suppress his frown.

"Talk to me, Oliver."

"Okay, I HATE this," he said forcefully, unable to stop his shoulders from clinching.

She moved and touched his arm, and he shrugged her hand off.

"Don't, Felicity. I'm sorry. I can't control this. I HATE this. Just don't touch me right now."

"I know you do. Come on, Oliver, I know you hate this. Look at me. I feel your pain. Please, share it with me. Lean on me a little."

He ducked his head. "Okay, I know you're feeling out of control here. But look out there, Oliver. Do you want to be in one of those graves?"

Moving, she placed her hand on his arm and unable to help himself, he shuttered beneath her touch.

He pulled away again feeling raw.

"Hey, don't push me away. I need your contact. Your arms around me. Today's been a heck of a ride. Can I have a hug? Just a small one?" She used her thumb and finger to show a tiny amount. "An itty bitty one?"

"You're silly sometimes, you know that?" He opened his arm, and she carefully inserted her warm body between him and the window sill. 

"I try." With slow movements, she wrapped her arms around his neck, as she pressed her willing body against his. "You need to remember we can do this together. You and me. I know that you're trying. And I love you. High blood pressure, nightmares, OCD, quirks, master chef, love of my life," she winked at him, "and best lover ever and all the rest. And you're a awesome coach, a man who found his lost boys. Who cares about his team. Do you know that?"

He grinned. But she always managed to amuse him and had from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. "But I hate my blood pressure problems. I hate being sick."

"Everyone hates being sick. But it happens to the best of us."

Slowly, he traced his right pointer finger across her soft cheek, and he savored her silky skin by turning his calloused hand and brushing his knuckles across her smooth check. "Why do you stay with me? I don't deserve you, Felicity, you know that don't you? I've done terrible things, horrid things."

Leaning in, she laid her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard. "Sorry, I can't help loving you. And I've got quirks too you know?" She tilted her head and stared into his eyes. "But I guess I just love you and you deserve to be loved. Not sure why some days but you've been the one for me for a very long time. You're my hero, my man, mine."

"Always. And I love you too." He inhaled her vanilla scent.

"Now that we gotten that out of the way. I'm right here for you. But you need to do a better job taking your meds. I want you to get better. I need you to stay with me. I'd be lonely without you. Stay with me."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her with the word, "Okay."

Mae opened the door and he stepped back, distancing himself.

"Here, Oliver, take these and then do you have time to do me a favor?"

"Sure."

He frowned looking down at the four pills in a small plastic cup in her hand. Reaching out, he took the four pills and the cup of water she'd brought and quickly swallowed them down.

"I need someone to pick up Jordan's surgeon from the airport. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure."

"He'll be here in about twenty minutes and," She looked hard into his eyes as she said, "The boy's critical. Oliver, this one's special. Jordan's the last baby I delivered. And the last thing I want is to take that boy's legs when he's fifteen. There's got to be a better answer. I'm just hoping Joel can save them."

"I agree. I'm on my way."

#####OQ#####

He watched the jet land and then waited for the doctor to disembark, which seemed to take forever. Finally, a tall man, barely graying looking more like a teacher than a doctor disembarked.

"You a doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm here for a teenager named Jordan who's got crush syndrome. You?"

"Oliver Queen. I'm Jordan's soccer coach, and I'm here to pick up his surgeon."

The man carried a small bag."Dr. Joel Walters and let's move. The sooner I operate the better. Do they have a team ready?"

"Yeah, Mae said that there's a surgical team's waiting for you, and he's being prepped for the table. And no pressure but everyone is hoping you're going to be the savior here."

The man looked at him hard. "He's fifteen. I just sped across Dallas to the airport. I had my people reschedule a bunch of my appointments, and then I jumped a private jet. Trust me, I'll do everything I can to save this kid's legs, but there no guarantees when it comes to crush syndrome. I could do everything right and still have to take his legs to save his life."

"Well thank you for coming. Do you have any other bags?"

"No, just a carry on. And do you think I had a choice in the matter?"

He looked at the man. "Why would you have no choice?"

"Mae didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Mae delivered me. I knew her son. This is my hometown and when she called and said Felts want to amputate, and I needed to come try to help this boy, I didn't question the why. I just came."

"She has a flair about her. Doesn't she?"

Arriving at the Porsche, he opened the truck and the doctor stowed his bag as he said, "Mae's not like any doctor or any person I've ever met. She has a fantastic aura about her."

Climbing in the car, he said, "I agree with you on that one."

"Mae's the reason I became a doctor, then a surgeon, but then I spent two tours in Afghanistan, and I was tired of working on legs that were already gone. You don't realize how many men have lost their legs over there."

"You did two tours?"

"No, really it was three but after two I had my first experience with crush syndrome. I lost a close friend to it. He got blown up in a building from an IUD. I thought he was fine. He was a friend who'd I just shared a joke with, I mean my friend was smiling one day, and dead the next. It was a complete shock, so I decided to specialize in the field after my third tour."

Oliver couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing as a terrible thought crossed his mind. He couldn't stop the question. "Do you know Riley Clark?"

"Of course, I was his surgeon."

"His surgeon?"

"Yeah, I put him back together the best I could when he got his legs blown off. I take it you've met him? He's a great guy. Been through a lot. I'm glad he found Anna. He deserves to be happy."

"Yeah, we've met." Was all he could say.

The man opened the door to the car and climbed in, as he said, "Let's move. This kid doesn't have much time left if I'm going to be able to save his legs.

"I'll have you there in under five. Shut your eyes if you need to and trust me I'm good at this."

"You'd better be." The man said as he climbed in. "And yeah, you should move it. I'm here to do my best."

When they pulled up at the hospital he noted that there was a crowd forming outside the ER doors. As he climbed out of the car, he noticed that on the sidewalk people had lit several candles. A pile of stuff was piled on the sidewalk. He looked at the stuffed animals, and the several large cards, the helium balloons that flew and a large poster board sign proclaimed in black hand written letters, "Stan, Jordan and Josh, we're praying for you. Get well soon."

He turned toward the surgeon and said, "Okay, you better pull this one out. Looks like a few people are counting on you."

"Yeah," the man said. "Let's get this done. I'll do the best I can."

And he nodded.

#####OQ#####


	40. Chapter 40

The woman looked official as her eyes scanned the waiting room. Clearly she looked for someone and from the frown on her face that someone wasn't there. But then her eyes found him, and she beeline it straight toward him.

Standing, he held out his hand.

Smiling, she extended her hand. "And your Oliver Queen. Josh Peter's and the other boys' soccer coach. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Queen, I'm Kim Reed."

"Since you know so much about me, please call me Oliver. And you're with?" Shaking her hand, he found her grip strong and her contact with his hand brief and professional.

"Texas Child Protective Services. And that's small town. We know everything, or at least we like to think we do. Plus of a lot of people are excited that your soccer season's about to start. What next week? Or the week after?"

"Yeah, we have a couple more weeks." Thank goodness, though he doubted it'd help them win. He gave a sigh as he added, "And now it looks like I'm officially down three players."

And he thought and I still don't have a goalie, and I somehow needed to make practice fun. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's what I hear, any word on the Franks boy?"

"He's in surgery. No news yet. We're all waiting."

"I'm praying for him, but right now I'm very interested in another one of your players. Do you know Janie Hall?"

"We've met."

"Have you seen her in the waiting room?"

"No."

The woman frowned. "Do you have a few minutes, I was wondering if we could have a private word?"

"Sure."

Oh, yes, he'd been waiting for this. Felicity had made the call for him right after he'd talked to her and told her about the terrible bruises on Josh's chest. He no longer had any doubt Josh's aunt beat him, and he intended to put an end to it ASAP.

Nodding at a nurse, the woman entered a small conference room and shut the door.

Pulling a small tape recorder out of her bag, she smiled. "I hope you don't mind but we record all conversations. It protects everyone. Could you please state your name?"

"Oliver Queen."

He narrowed his eyes as he wondered how to play this.

Josh's aunt seemed guilty, but the teen needed to be the one to finger her, since he only had Stan's word about who'd hurting the young man, and he planned to keep Stan out of this situation.

"This is in regards to one minor, Joshua aka Josh Peters, age 15," and she shuffled some papers and wearily stated a case number. Pulling out a yellow notepad, she clicked her pen. "Mr. Queen, could you explain how you know Josh Peters?"

"Please, call me, Oliver, and I'm his soccer coach. He's a member of my team."

"It's that a court ordered team?"

"Yes."

"Then, Josh has been in trouble in the juvenile court system?"

"More than once, like most of my team."

"He's a trouble maker then?"

"No. Let's just say he gets in a lot of fights, and he always throws the first punch." Something he personality respected Josh for, since if you wanted to win, attacking first was key and it could quickly end the fight in your favor. Josh was smart to hit first.

"Have you noted any signs of physical abuse on Josh's body? Perhaps seen bruises on his chest or back? I met with Josh a little while ago and noted some forearm bruising that looked like defensive bruises."

"The kid is a mass of bruises when I saw him in the cannery but explain defensive bruises."

She wrapped her arms around her head. "Like this. It's a natural reflex for children or an abuse victim to use their arms to protect their heads when they're being hit, so their forearms take the blunt of the blows." Removing her arms, she added, "It's a normal reaction. If a victim is knocked down, reflex causes the victim to curl up in a ball, and try to protect their heads. And I'd say Josh was probably kicked with a curved shoe from the shape of the bruises on his forearms."

It been years since he thought of himself as a victim but the thoughts of him doing that exact same thing, of tucking himself into a tight ball, of using his arms to protect his head more than once during his life blazed through his mind.

In a flash, he could see himself on the island, before he'd learned to fight, down on the ground being kicked, see men kicking him repeatedly. His brain fast forwarded to Russia, back to when he'd first joined the Bravta and just as quickly he was back in the league losing the gauntlet. The league had kicked him even after they had knocked him unconscious, and he'd hurt for weeks later. It still bothered him that they'd beaten him down four times before he could survive the gauntlet upright.

The social worker continued to talk but he couldn't hear, couldn't focus and he reached his hand in his pocket reaching for his life line, touching her hair tie in an effort to come back, in an effort to return to this time. Breath coming too fast, he tried to focus on the social worker's words since this was important, and he needed to help Josh.

"I noted that some of Josh's bruises are too old to have been caused by the fall he experienced a couple of days ago. I haven't seen his chest and back but his arms had several different stages of bruising."

With determination and sheer will, he pulled himself back to now. And he refused to even think about those letters, PTSD. Yes, he shut those thoughts off cold. "I saw his chest when we rescued him and the others. He has every color of bruising there is. His new bruises created from the fall are red or blue. But he also has purple or black bruises and then he has others that are green, yellow or brown. Of course, you know that bruises change color as they heal."

"I know that you know a lot about bruises."

He pressed his lips together for an instant. "Yeah, I do. I know yellow means that the bruise is at least seven to ten days old. And chest bruises take longer to heal. They can last up to four weeks."

"So you're telling me that you saw yellow bruises on Josh's chest?"

Swallowing hard, he tried to control his rapid heartbeat. "Yes, but I can't say where his bruises came from. I know that Josh gets in a lot of fights at school, and I know he's been fighting this week."

"You're sure about this?"

"I broke up a fight between him and Jordan the last time they were at practice, and I know he and Stan got in trouble for fighting at school the day they went missing. Sorry, but I don't know for sure where his bruises are from, though I admit something seems off about his household. And his sister came to see me when her brother went missing."

The woman made more notes on the yellow pad. "Go on."

"Ruby seemed worried and nervous when I suggested I talk to her aunt. She didn't want me to come to the house or want her aunt to know she'd contracted me. I went to see his aunt this morning. She first refused to meet with me but I talked her into it."

The woman smiled again. "I bet you did. And Ruby would be Josh's little sister?"

He refused to acknowledge the underlying current that pasted between them, since he had no desire to flirt with the woman, and he was well aware that most women found him attractive, but his heart belonged to Felicity and always would.

"Yes, Ruby is Josh's younger sister."

"Could you state Josh's aunt's name for the record?"

"Janie Hall. After meeting with Ms. Hall, I was surprised when she seemed unconcerned that Josh had been missing for two days. She described him as high strung, and she didn't mean it as a compliment. I've also mentioned to her that he's wearing rags."

"Rags?"

"Everything he wears is bare thread and has holes. And most of it is too big for him. Josh seems too thin. I've noticed that. And his aunt, Ms. Hall was unconcerned when I brought the topic up to her." He was hoping if the state couldn't find abuse maybe they would see neglect.

"Does Josh miss very many practices?" She asked out of the blue.

Shaking his head, he said, "No, he's never missed practice. Well, not until the last few days, though he's always running late, and now I'm beginning to think he does that on purpose."

"On purpose?"

"Yeah, I don't think he wants anyone to see him when he dresses out."

"That would make sense if he's being abused. Victims do that."

"What?"

"Hide the bruises on their bodies. Even though it's not their fault, they're embarrassed that someone's hurting them, and that sounds like what Josh could be doing."

He looked down at the floor, knowing he hid his scars under his clothes.

"But, Josh never said anything to you about any abuse or any problems at home?"

"No, though again I admit something seems off about his household. During my visit this morning, his aunt seemed unconcerned that he'd been missing for two days. She made light of the fact that he doesn't come home some nights and admitted that she locks him out after six p.m. I think that's why Josh was at the cannery. I think he's been sleeping there because I've been keeping him late at practices, and she's been locking him out."

More writing on the yellow notepad, she looked up, tapping her pen against the pad. "I heard you were instrumental in rescuing those boys from that abandoned cannery. Is that true?"

"Josh was instrumental in getting them rescued. He and Stan both. Without those two teens, they'd still be there dying. The way I look at it is if Josh hadn't figured out to have Stan rig those two old phones with power, and then figured out to use the handset to send out an SOS, he and Jordan would be dead right now."

"What you're telling me is this young man's smart."

"Yeah, he's not just smart. My fiancée says he's a genius." And pleasure flooded him as he thought about Felicity, and he also wanted her to understand that he was taken, since he could tell the woman was clearly admiring him.

"Maybe he's smart enough to hide the fact that someone's hurting him?"

"Yeah. I would think so."

And Kim Reed took the hint and clearly was doing her best to finish this up as she flipped the notebook shut and began to put it away. "Coach Queen, thank you for your time."

Reaching, she shut off the recorder before she ask, "Do you have any type of relationship with Josh? Does he trust you enough to tell you the truth if you asked?"

"I doubt it. Josh is an angry young man on his best days. And I'm probably not one of his favorite people."

"Off the record, I've already met angry Josh. He's already lied to me, and he's clearly getting beat up, probably by his aunt but he's covering for her. I'm sure he's afraid. His aunt's not going to take this accusation lying down, and if I'm going to make this stick in court I need Josh to talk, to tell the truth. And I'm pretty sure he's not going to talk to me on his own."

"And you want me to see if he'll talk to me?" His chest felt heavy knowing how hard it could be to talk about certain things.

"Will you help me? Rather will you help, Josh, somehow make him understand he has to tell the truth?"

"I can try."

#####OQ#####

Josh's eyes were heavy as he woke up. Nodding, going in and out of consciousness, he watched the room slowly coming back into focus, and he opened his eyes to find Coach Queen sitting beside his bed.

"Hey, Josh. I stopped by to check on you. You awake?"

"Barely? You came didn't you? You got us out of that building? You answered our SOS?"

"I did. I should have gotten your SOS sooner. Felicity figured it out, and I wish I'd have figured it out sooner and pulled you three out of there hours ago."

"At least you came. Thank you."

"Not a problem. How you feeling?"

Blinking, he used his good hand to rubs his face. "Truthfully, Coach, I'm pretty high right now. But tell me. What was stopping the door from opening? I need to know. It's bothering me."

Coach gave a small laugh. "I wondered how long it'd take you to ask. It was a very large rusty padlock that stopped you from opening the door."

"Figured it was something like that." Remembering, he attempted to sit up and pulled painfully on his tubes, with the words, "Jordan? What about Jordan? What happened to his legs?"

"Easy. Lie back down. Jordan's in surgery. Mae flew in a specialty surgeon who's doing everything he can to save Jordan's legs."

"Are they going to take his legs?" He looked intently at his coach.

Coach's face hardened. "They don't know yet, and right now no news is good news."

"But he's still alive? I did everything I could to keep him alive."

"I know you did and last I heard his doctor was trying to save his legs. I know that you did the best you could. I'm proud of you, Josh."

"You are?" A warmth spread across his face and he looked at the ceiling.

"Of course, you made the right decision to not dig Jordan out. Saved his life. He would have bled out the first day if you'd dug him out of the debris."

"Stan's okay, right? His leg was broken but it wasn't a bad break."

"And you made sure he splinted it. Stan told me, and he's just a couple doors down from you. He's doing well. The doctor's set Stan's leg, and they're pushing fluids into him. All of you were severely dehydrated. But I hear he'll be moving down to the main floor probably tomorrow."

"Unlike me, huh?" He smoothed the sheet.

"No, unlike you. But, Josh, Stan told me all the things you did to keep the three of them alive. They would have died without you."

"It's nothing."

"No, Josh. It was awesome now listen to me, I'm proud to have you on my team."

"Thanks, Coach." This time he was sure he blushed, and he looked away.

"You're welcome. Now, for the hard stuff." Coach asked quietly, "Where'd you get your bruises, Josh?"

He knew now was the time to tell but the words stuck in his throat. Clearing his throat, he forced out the words, "Stan told didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did. And it all makes sense now."

Ducking his head, he smoothed the sheet beneath his good hand, making the sheet flat, looking at only the sheet. He cleared his throat. "What does?"

"Why you were always late to dress out and how you would hang back after practice until everyone else left before you'd shower. I knew you were dragging. Everyone has been just thinking you're slow but now I see it was calculated. You were hiding the bruises."

He shut his eyes, hoping this would all go away.

"And I blame myself, I should have caught it. You let everyone think you were slow. Let them think that 'That's just, Josh, always late, Josh.' But now I see it was deliberate."

"It wasn't your fault, Coach." With a trembling hand, he continued to smooth the sheet.

"Yes, it was. You're part of my team. I should have caught that's the reason you were always late to dress out, the reason you hung back after practice, and why you volunteered to collect the extra soccer balls most days. Now I know why you were taking your time because you were waiting everyone out to hide the bruises. I understand that now. Can you tell me about it? Tell me who did this to you?"

Still the words wouldn't come out, instead he continued to smooth the sheet.

Coach sighed and urged, "You can talk to me. If you talk to me then I can help. And if someone's hitting you, telling on them is the only way to make them stop."

Turning his head, he said sharply, "Look, I'm high but I'm never going to be that high. I was stupid to tell Stan, and I only told him because I thought I'd die and now it looks like I missed my chance, so I can't. Besides, no one would believe me. She's powerful in this town."

He shut his eyes and wished this would all go away.

"She's only powerful because you won't tell on her. You're giving her that power. If you'd just talk to me, I'll help you. I promise I'll help you."

A laugh erupted and he groaned, But he opened his eyes and looked at the sheet. "You act like telling is easy. Like there won't be any consequences. Trust me, Coach, I've learned there are always consequences. Telling will make my life worse, and everyone's going to say I'm lying."

"Not everyone. I'll believe you if you tell the truth. I swear to you. Josh, would you look at me?"

He swallowed and turned his head and for a second he looked straight into Coach's blue eyes. "I promise that if you tell me the truth, I'll believe you. I understand you don't want to go into foster care but you have to stop her. And only you have the power to stop her."

He believed the man but that didn't change things. His lip trembled and he looked away and scrubbed his face with his good hand.

"Ruby doesn't want them to split us up. She thinks mom and dad would have wanted us to stay together. She'll hate me if I talk."

"I understand that. But your parents wouldn't want you to live like this. You have to tell the truth. And even if Ruby hates you to begin with, she'll get over it."

"You don't know Ruby, and have you ever been in foster care? It's not a walk in the park."

"No, I admit I haven't, but it's got to be better than getting beat up. I've been beaten up, and it's never fun. I don't want that for you."

"You, Coach? Beat up? I find that hard to believe. You're too strong."

His coach nodded and gave him a slight grin. "Believe it. I've been beaten up more than once. I've been where you are, where I couldn't stop someone from hurting me, and I don't want that for you. Okay, you talk and maybe you'll go into foster care. But it will only be for a little while, it will only be until they find someone to take all three of you. Stan told me you have some uncles who are willing to take all of you. Felicity's contacting them with the the e-mail address that you gave Stan."

Biting his bottom lip, he looked away. His voice darkened. "They gave up. Her lawyer beat their lawyer. It was like a chess game only we were the pawns. And I haven't talked to them in months, which means that I'm not going there, Coach. You're talking pipe dreams, and I don't believe in them anymore. And I haven't in a long time."

"I understand more than you know what it's like to be afraid to hope for things to get better."

"I don't believe that, not you, Coach." He couldn't stop from looking at the man now.

"Why not?"

"Why you're strong and buff, have a hot girlfriend, live on the beach and have a Porsche and a bike. What more could a guy want?"

His coach gave a ghost of a smile, maybe the first smile he'd ever directed his way. "What more indeed? I see your point. But, I've had a lot of tough times too and sometimes you have to take control of the situation. Stop giving your bully the power."

Josh swallowed hard and his chest felt heavy, as Coach paused then added, "And I'll admit I don't know for sure your uncles are coming for you but that doesn't change the fact that you have to change your situation. You need to tell the social worker the truth."

"That's easy to say but hard to do."

"You're brave you know?'

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. Now how long has she been hurting you?"

"I can't."

"You can. Why don't you start with telling me how long you've been covering for her?"

"I haven't."

But he couldn't look the man in the eye. "At least respect me enough not to lie to me. We're both smarter than that. And what if next time she kills you? She almost managed to kill you this time. You knew your spleen was bleeding since you told Stan, and I think you know the fall didn't do the damage. Admit it; you had the injury before you fell?"

Looking away, he winced as his coach said, "And what would Ruby and your little brother do without you? What would happen to them? They need you, Josh. You have to protect them. It's your responsibility now with your parents gone. And I expect you to stand up and protect them."

Frowning, he thought about coach's questions, turned them over in his head.

"You don't understand what you asking me to do."

"Then tell me, help me understand."

But the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. How could he tell Coach that he was afraid if he told, no one would believe him? And what if he'd end up back behind her locked door again? What if she got her hands on him after he tried to ruin her reputation?

"Please, Coach, just let it go. I'm tired. Thanks for stopping by."

"I know you might think you're protecting your little brother and sister by keeping silent, but you're not. What you're doing is enabling your aunt to keep hurting you. And what happens when just hurting you isn't enough? What if she starts hurting them too?"

Smoothed the sheet, his hand flattening careful lines, he found that his eyes watered as he remembered his aunt throwing Ruby to the floor, remembered how she'd ruthlessly knocked his sister aside, and he understood that the woman could easily turn on his sister at any time, that she could hurt Ruby too.

And he knew he couldn't protect her, not like this, no he couldn't protect either of them. And what if she started hitting Will?

"Talk to me. I can stop her if you talk to me. Let me help you. I can help you protect them. Both your sister and your brother if you let me help you."

"I can't. Please stop." His hand smoothed the sheet, repeatedly smoothed the sheet.

"Yes, you can. You can make a difference. All you have to do is tell the social worker what happened. Admit that she hit you. Just tell the truth."

He shut his eyes and turned his head and pretended to sleep. And finally Coach went away, and he felt bad inside but he managed to finally nod off.

#####OQ#####

He'd been drifting in and out again. His nurse had come and given him more pain killers, and he woke up really high and thankfully alone, when abruptly the sliding glass door slid open with a whoosh, and his aunt, sister and little brother entered the room. Suddenly, it'd became hard to breathe, as he cringed and sank back into his bed.

"Josh, I thought you were gone too. I was scared for you." His tiny younger brother ran to his side, and he barely threw his good left hand out in time to stop his brother from colliding with his injured body. Then he gently pulled his brother's soft body closer and kissed the top of his small head.

"Shh, Will, it's okay. I'm still here but don't jerk me around. I got hurt, and I'm in a lot of pain. Be still. Okay?"

"Okay." And his brother released him but his brother's hand carefully smoothed his bare arm, stroking his arm.

His sister reached and touched his hand on his broken arm, with the words, "You big idiot. What were you thinking falling through a roof? I swear if you weren't broken up, I'd beat you up myself."

Eyes blazing, his aunt leaned into his ear acting like she was going to hug him, and he cringed as she spat the words, "Josh, if you know what's good for you then you'd better keep your damn mouth shut."

"Child protective services has already been here."

Her hand reached and she put pressure on his cast, pressed slightly on his broken arm, making his arm hurt as she said, "What did you tell them?"

"That I fell through a roof. Stop. Don't do that. That hurts. Stop touching my broken arm."

She ran her hands up his cast hurting him. "You'd better remember that you can't prove anything. It's your word against mine."

Reaching, he searched for the long wand and pressed the nurse's button.

"You need something?"

His aunt's eyes narrowed, which kept him from saying the word 'HELP.'

"Yeah. I'm in pain. Can you come and bring me something?"

"Give me a minute. Let me check your chart."

"Please hurry. I'm really in pain. I can't wait long."

"Okay."

His aunt reached out and grabbed his face, squeezed his cheeks together, hurting him as he tried to winch away. "And don't forget to tell them how many fights you've been in lately."

"Stop touching me! You're hurting me. Stop."

Becky, his nurse, opened the door.

"What is going on in here?"

Becky's presence made him brave. "I don't feel well. Can you make them leave?"

"Josh, you can't be serious." Ruby's voice trembled.

"Oh yeah, I'm real serious. I've spent over 48 hours with a ruptured spleen, and let me tell you it hurts like hell. I want all of you to get the fuck out of here. Thanks for the visit but go."

"Watch your mouth, Josh," Coach Queen unexpectedly slid the door open, and his huge frame filled the small space and his aunt stepped back away from him.

"Yes, Coach." He ducked his head, but his chest lightened just because the man had stepped in the room.

"Yes, shut your lying mouth, Josh. If you know what's good for you, it's time for you to shut up."

He narrowed his eyes and sat up in the bell. "Time? I've had plenty of time to think about you hurting Ruby and Will if I die and that's not going to happen. So, this ends here. No more lies. I'm telling the truth."

"Good for you, Josh." His coach encouraged him. "Tell the truth."

"Go on, Josh. Since you wouldn't know the truth if it bit you." His aunt crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's lying. Whatever he's told you, Mr. Queen, believe me he's lying."

He shut his eyes and it hurt to inhale. "You're the one lying. We all know you've beat me up repeatedly, ever since the first day I came to live with you."

"Josh! NO. Shut up." Ruby reached and squeezed his hand. "Please, don't. Be quiet."

Turning on her, he said violently, "No more lies. Tell the truth. Tell them that she hits me. Tell them that she's kicks me after she knocks me down. Tell them, Ruby. Help me. I need your help here."

"Josh, don't." Ruby's face looked pained. "You know what will happen."

"Yeah, we'll all get to live. Even me. Tell them, Ruby. Tell the truth about how she's attacked me, hit me with a clothes' hanger while I slept. Tell them. Please, don't lie anymore. NO MORE LIES. I could have died this time. I'm not ever going back inside her house. I'm never going back behind that locked door ever again. She'll kill me the next time."

Coach said in a mean voice, "And you never have to do that again, Josh. I promise you. NEVER again."

His aunt exploded and he was thankful Coach was in the room to protect him. "You're lying. I'll prove it. And you don't have to ever worry about coming back to my house. I'll get your probation revoked. I'll prove that you were trespassing when you fell through that roof. We'll see how you like going to juvenile detention for the next three to four years. I'm done with you."

His aunt moved toward him and his little brother stepped between him and her and in a very small voice said, "You're lying, Aunt Janie, cause you hurt Josh." Turning toward his coach, his brother pleaded, "Please make her stop. Can you please make her stop hurting Josh?"

"Shut up, Will," Ruby said bitterly.

His small little brother moved and laced his tiny fingers through his, as he said solidly, "NO. I WON'T. Aunt Janie hurts Josh. Hit's him. Over and over she hits him. Please, Aunt Janie, don't hurt Josh anymore. Someone make her stop hurting Josh. Can you make her stop?" His brother asked his coach.

"Yes, I can. I promise." Coach nodded, his large frame solid as he eyed his aunt.

And the young child's thin arm pulled him closer. Aunt Janie looked like she wanted to explode. Red faced, she glared at him. "Shame on all of you, lying on me. After all I've done for you. After I took you brats in. No one's going to believe this."

"Yes, they will." His sister and Will said together as Ruby moved so his siblings stood between her and him, and he was grateful his aunt couldn't get to him, since if looks could kill, he'd have died on the spot.

His coach faced his aunt. "I knew something was wrong when I talked to you. Ruby, tell the truth. Is your aunt hitting, Josh? Hurting Josh?"

She looked down at her feet and quietly agreed. "Yes. She hurts him. Okay, she hits him."

"RUBY! SHUT UP! If you don't shut up."

"You'll beat me up too?"

And as he watched, his aunt stepped toward the young girl, her fists clinched.

The small wisp of a girl stepped back, colliding with his bed, jarring him.

"Damn, Ruby. Don't bump the bed." He hissed through his teeth and his coach stepped between Ruby and his aunt.

"Sorry, Josh. But no more, Aunt Janie. I won't let you do it anymore. I mean it. Even if they do split us up there will be NO more. I can't watch you hurt him another time. He could have died this time and you were pushing on his broken arm a few minutes ago. I WANT to talk to the social worker."

His coach's voice deeped. "You need to step back, Ms. Hall. I've seen his bruises. And trust me, you're never going to get the chance to touch him again."

"Queen, you're once again putting your nose in where it doesn't belong."

"I haven't even started." He crossed his broad arms in front of his chest, and Josh let his shoulders slump.

A knock, and the door slid open, and Kim Reed stepped through.

"Janie Hall?"

"Yes."

"I'm Kim Reed, and I'm with Child's Protective Services. The hot line's had several calls concerning the bruises on Josh's body. I'd like to speak with you. And with the other children."

"Can I talk to you first?" He asked as his coach nodded at him. "Coach would you stay? I'm ready to talk, to make a difference."

"Oh course, I'll stay, and I know you're making the right decision." And for the first time in a long time, his chest seemed lighter.

The social worker said, "Would you please give us the room? And Ms. Hall, don't go far."

"Josh." His aunt said sweetly, "Remember, I'll be right outside."

The social worker removed a piece of tech from her bag. "Oh, don't worry I want to talk to you too. And with the other children. I want you also be aware that I've contracted the local law enforcement and fully intend to remove at least Josh from the household and possibility the other children as well."

The woman's face fell. "You have to be joking me. Do you know who I am?"

"Someone who'll be lucky if the state doesn't prosecute her for child abuse and neglect?" The social worker said deadpan.

His aunt's face reddened and for an instant he thought she was going to lunge at him, and he knew if looks could kill, he'd be dead now.

"You're not going to get away with this. I'll hire a lawyer."

"You have every right to retain an attorney. But I'd do it quickly, since you'll have a hearing within 48 hours."

"You'll be sorry for this you three, and Josh, I'm going to remember this."

Coach said, "You'll never get another chance at him or them. You've hurt him for the last time."

His aunt glared daggers at him, and he found his coach's blue eyes. "Coach, I'm tired, high enough I need to shut my eyes. You're staying right?"

The large man crossed his massive arms in front of his chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

And he breathed a sigh of relief as the man pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed, moving between him and his aunt. Will also stood beside him, his small body standing between him and her, his tiny hand reaching and clasping his with the words, "I'm here too, Josh."

"I have to ask your brother and sister to step out too." The social worker said.

"Please don't make them. I don't know if they'd be safe with her now. I want them to stay. Believe me they know."

"I know they do but they have to step out."

"I'll asked your nurse, Becky, to keep her eye on them."

With a loud sound of disgust, his aunt left the room, the glass doors closing with a whoosh. 

 His coach ushered the two out the door and quickly returned.  

Then unable to stop, and knowing that for this minute he was safe, that his coach would protect him, he shut his eyes and began to talk.

"My parents died in an airplane accident, and they didn't leave a will. And we were supposed to live with my uncles, but then the aunt I'd never hear of appeared and got custody of us. And she hates me."

Opening his eyes, he looked a spot past Coach's shoulder. "The first time she beat me up was the first night I moved here. When I got on the plane in LA, they told them I could have the skateboard that my dad and I picked out together or a suitcase of clothes."

"I chose the skateboard. And I never even knew she was mad over me leaving the clothes at the airport until she turned and locked the door of her house. I didn't know that someone could hurt me like that. I'd never imaged it."

Looking down, seeing her hitting him, kicking him, his mind looked past everyone in the room. "I'd never been hit by anyone before that day. My parents barely yelled, let alone laid hands. But that day changed my life. When she locked the door, the first thing she did was hit me. I didn't understand that she could do that to me. Before, I knew what happened she had already whipped my ass. And Aunt Janie's been pissed at me ever since I abandoned my clothes in the airport in LA and brought the skateboard. And my aunt's refused to buy me any new clothes since, and now I think that she likes to hit me."

His coach reached out and patted his hand with the words, "She'll never hit you again, Josh. I promise you that."

#####OQ#####

Yeah, not the end but the end of this chapter. And as always thanks for the read. And who thinks the aunt should get hers?


	41. Chapter 41

######OQ######  
"Ruby?" The social worker smiled and said, "Let's you and I have a word. In private? What do you think?"

The girl shrugged.

Oliver had just returned Josh's siblings to the room. As he watched  Ruby found Josh's eyes and her brother said quietly, "Just tell the truth, Ruby. Please, I can't take much more."

The young girl swallowed hard, nodded and gently touched his fingers on his broken arm before she turned and followed the social worker out of the room.

Josh clearly struggled to stay awake and the teen's green eyes found his.

"Coach, I'm tired. I'm high enough I need to shut my eyes. Could you stay for a minute? Keep an eye on Will. I have to shut my eyes."

Crossing his massive arms in front of his chest, he understood the teen felt he needed protection. "Sure. You rest, Josh, I'm not going anywhere. Go to sleep. I'll stay."

"Thanks, Coach."

And Josh breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, as Oliver pulled a chair up and sat beside the bed. Will, the tiny brother moved, his small body standing beside Josh, his tiny hand reaching and clasping his hand with the words, "I'm here too, Josh."

"Thanks, Will. I'm glad." Josh murmured as he closed his eyes.

#####OQ#####

Oliver noted that the social worker's face was grim as she returned Ruby and took the tiny boy, Will, out of the room. Ruby had been crying, it was clear, as she moved and got a chair and sat beside her brother.

Her face was streaked and red. Repeatedly, he watched as she dashed tears away, and he wondered how many times, Aunt Janie had hurt Josh over the last year?

And he wondered, if she'd hurt Ruby too?

"You doing okay?" He finally asked her as she carefully took her sleeping brother's hand, her thumb rubbing his hand, over and over.

"No."

She sighed and he waited for her to go on.

"My aunt's going to say he's lying. That we're all lying."

"But you're not."

"He fights all the time. He's angry. Somedays, I think someone will tell me he's dead."

"Don't think like that.

Her green eyes found his.

She and Josh had the same eyes and his heart ached for these children.

"Please, Coach Queen, don't let her get her hands on him again. None of us can go back to her house now. We can't go back behind that locked door ever again."

Again she smoothed her brother's hand.

"You won't have to, I promise."

And he meant it.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. We've learned that people can't always keep their promises, so it's best not to put much faith in them."

"When I promise something I mean it."

Ruby shook her head slightly then said, "I think we need to call the nurse."

"Why?"

"Josh is hot."

He reached and touched the teen's forehead and reached for the nurse's button.

"Yes?"

"Josh feels like he's running fever."

In mere moments, Josh's nurse Becky came in and checked Josh's vitals.

She looked at him and grinned, and he ducked his head.

They had history between them. She'd been there when Felicity had being sick and when his stupid blood pressure had given him problems.

Yes, Becky and he'd spent a lot of time together.

Smiling, Becky pumped up Josh's blood pressure cuff, while the boy slept on.

"Oliver, it's good to see you. And how's your blood pressure? Up or down?"

"Thanks for asking, Becky."

He grinned that smile that normally got him out of things he didn't want to talk about. "How's Josh doing? Are they going to down grade him soon?"

"He's hovering on the edge. Could go either way still. I've heard nothing about down grading him.Though I'll call his doctor about the fever, since that means infection. And, I noted you didn't  answer the question. How's your blood pressure?"

She placed a hand on her hip and glared at him.

Finding a place on the wall above her head, he assured her, "I'm good, Becky. Mae's on top of it, so let's just concentrate on Josh right now."

She winked at him, before she said, "Okay, this time. You be sure to tell Felicity I said hi."

"Will do."

The woman headed out of the room and he rose and walked out the door with her. In a quiet voice, he said, "Becky, don't leave him alone with his aunt. He's too weak to protect himself."

Nodding, she said, "I've seen the bruises, and met the women from Child Protective Services was here. I'm sure something official won't be long in coming. Believe me, I look out for my patients. And I'll pass it on to the day shift. His aunt won't touch him again. We'll make sure."

Thanks. I know that." And he gave a nod before he said, "But I'm still staying for now. He needs someone to look out for him and her."

Ruby sat beside the bed, the fear in her face very real and even if Janie Hall wasn't in the room, he'd stayed with the boy and the girl. The least he could do was protect Josh and the sister.

Thoughts of Thea filled his mind as he thought about the boy being a member of his team, and he'd look out for him. And the other two needed him too, so he'd stay for a while.

#####OQ#####

A while later Felicity came in the glass door and held up her tablet.

Josh was still out cold. The social worker, after the interviews, had taken the other two children into protective services.

Yet, he still hung out, protecting Josh, just in case his aunt decided to return for a surprise visit.

Felicity arrived and said, "Come on, Oliver."

She reached and took his hand. Smiling she said, "Someone called the local T.V. stations and look they caught Aunt Janie on video."

A reporter stuck a mike in Janie Hall's face asking, "Is it true that you are possibility being charged with child abuse?"

"No comment?"

"Has the Department of Child Services removed the children from the home?"

"I said NO COMMENT."

The large woman pushed her way past the reporter, who said, "That was Janie Hall, Director of the Regional Library. She is allegedly going to be charged with child abuse. Her nephew and his two friends were trapped in an abandon building for over two days. And after being rescued there have been . . ."

Felicity stopped the feed with the words, "She's going make the front page and trust me this video's going viral."

"You're really bad or should I say really good?" But he grinned.

"Just call me bitch, with better since I fixed it, hospital Wi-Fi. I can't believe how bad the hospital Wi-Fi still is. I need to replace several more routers. But don't worry I'll fix it."

His hand reached and smoothed her cheek, and she leaned into his hand as he said, "Never do I worry about something you're going to fix. And I hope you gave her the deluxe treatment."

Pulling away, she grinned at him as she said, "Well if I was her, I wouldn't charge anything on my credit cards." She began to talk with her hands, ticking off her fingers, "or my cancelled debit card, and it will take a while to figure out exactly why there's an IRS block on her bank account."

He grinned at her and then reached and grabbed her hand, and pulled her close, giving her a hug, as he whispered in her ear, "I can't wait to get you home and reward you."

And the sound of her laughter warmed him, as he said, "I wish I could go home with you, but I need to check on Jordan."

"I'll stay with you." Reaching, she took his hand and together they headed to the waiting room.

#####OQ#####  
Jordan's family was nervous and it showed, he thought. His mom would go out and come back smelling like smoke and it wouldn't be about ten minutes, and she would be handing a toddler off and be back out the door. And a lot of people went with her.

The older kids watched the younger ones, and he thought that it was kind of sad.

Finally, the doctor walked into the room, with his face ashen and tired, he said, "Franks' family."

Jordan's mother shot to her feet, her big belly, clearly getting there first as she said, "How's my boy? His legs. . . ? Tell me does he? Does he still has his legs? He's only fifteen."

"I know that and his legs are still there, but just barely." The man said quietly, before he added, "And I hope to keep them there, but it's touch and go right now. And this probably won't be the last surgery he'll have to have. I want you to know that it's going to be a hard future for him if he keeps his legs or not."

"He's strong."

"I hope so. He needs to be. But for now we have him stable and in a medical induced coma."

"Coma?" His mother asked, the worry lines clear on her face.

"It makes it easier on him to keep him down, to keep him asleep. He'd be in a lot of pain if we wake him up now, so it's easier on his body to keep him asleep for a while to give him a chance to heal."

"Can I see him?"

The doctor said, "Infection's our greatest enemy right now. So, I'm only going to allow you as his mother in to visit right now. And you," he pointed a finger at Jordan's mother before he said, "you will have to gown up. No one touches him or goes near him right now without a full suit, gloves and a mask. He's under quarantine. And THERE will be no one in or out without gowning up completely."

"Thank you, doctor," Jordan's mother reached and touched the doctor's arm and gave him a smile as she said, "For at least trying to save his legs."

The man looked down and said, "I'll do everything I can. Just don't touch him and he'll have a chance."

Felicity reached and took his hand and smiled up at him with the words, "Come on, Oliver, we've done every thing we can today. Let's go home."

"Okay. I'd like that."

"Didn't you say something about rewarding me? Well I'm ready to go home and collect my reward."

Now that truly made him smile as he said, "I'd love that. Yeah, let's go home."

######OQ####

As always. Thanks for the read. Happy Arrow day!


	42. Chapter 42

#####OQ#####

The bright light hurt his eyes as he shut his eyes against the rude overhead light.

"Josh, you in there?"

He blinked repeatedly, clearing his vison, and a beautiful blonde woman with a ponytail came into view. Groggy, he fought through the haze in an attempt to process, to access her name, while he worked to figure out real from fantasy.

"Hey, I'm Felicity Smoak, Josh, welcome back."

"Thanks. You're coach's girlfriend, right?"

"That's right. How are you feeling?"

"Like I fell off my skateboard and got run over by a bus. Plus, I'm feeling like they're trying to OD me. I'm past high right now."

"Probably for the best. Or you'd be in real pain right now."

"Maybe, I'm too high to tell right now." Using the remote to raise his head bed a little, he sat up a in the bed and blinked repeatedly, trying to find his center, trying to wake up and he moved his arm, promptly forgot the case and nearly punched himself in the face.

"Careful, cast."

"Yeah, forgot." His face warmed. "Where did everyone go?"

"They left a while ago." She flashed him an awesome smile that warmed him. "Can I get you anything?"

He started to sit upright and groaned, falling back into the bed as his incision complained. "Wait. How's Jordan? Did they take his legs?"

"He's next door to you and currently holding his own with both legs. They've put him in a coma to help him heal. Now we wait. The doctor thinks the next few days will be critical but he has a chance. Josh, you and Stan gave him that change."

He couldn't look at her as he thought about Jordan losing his legs. "How's Stan."

"Up and walking on crutches. He came to see you a little while ago. They've already moved him downstairs, and he'll probably be released in the morning."

"Guess I slept through his visit."

"Guess you did. But he said he'd come back later."

"I'm thirsty. Can I have a drink yet? And I might have an IV in but I could eat. Been a while now. Days, I think." His stomach grumbled as if it agreed.

"I'll find out." She pressed the nurse's button and asked.

"Sorry, the doctor says only ice chips still. I'll bring you some. It's about time for some pain killer again too."

"I'm serious. They're going to OD me if they keep hitting me." He scrubbed his face with his good hand. "Look I know you're Coach's girlfriend, but you don't have to stay with me."

"It's not a problem."

Feeling out of sorts, he wanted her to leave him alone. "I'm pretty sure I can lay in this bed all by myself. And I don't need any help doing it."

"Your coach asked me to stay. And I've been setting up a Skype session with your Uncle Chad."

"Don't bother. He doesn't care. And I don't want to talk to him."

The blonde woman flashed a small sad smile at him.

"Soooo, you're going to live in foster care until you're eighteen? That's the plan?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. That's all you're going to say?"

He adverted his eyes and found a spot on the wall to stare at. "Pretty much. I'll handle whatever comes. I always do."

The woman shook her blonde head and frowned at him.

"Why do guys want to martyr themselves? Josh, you have an awesome brain and by the way, I do too. But I'm smart enough to not waste my brain, so why would you want to waste yours? If your uncles want to raise you, let them. Come on, you need to have a little faith here."

"Don't talk to me about faith or my uncles." His voice livid. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"Josh, I'm sure your uncles care about you."

"Don't bet on it. It's been months since the last time I talked to them." He shrugged and his stomach burned, and he tasted stomach acid in the back of his throat. Clutching the rough hospital blanket, he found puking a possibility for his future.

"Maybe you should give them a chance."

"I'm done giving people chances. And, I'm tired and don't want to talk anymore. Coach won't like it but it's going to be while before he can make me run, and I'm probably headed to detention anyway, which means I'm off the team. Now, why don't you do us both a favor and go away."

"Sorry can't do that. Coach Queen asked to watch over you and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"What makes you think you can protect me?"

"I'm stronger than I look. And once again, I told your coach I'd stay."

"Does Coach think Aunt Janie might come back?"

"Maybe?" She shrugged. "Your coach wants to look out for you. Why don't you let him?"

"Why?"

"Maybe because he cares."

"Right." He kept looking at the spot on the wall.

"He does."

"Have you ever been to soccer practice? Sorry, Ms. Felicity, I'm not buying it, and if my aunt shows up you'd see how long you'd last against her. I'm no wimp and she's strong enough to take me. I want you to leave."

"I'm tougher than I look and my presence should be enough to deter her. I'm staying."

"You can't be here 24/7. Stop wasting your time. I release you." He smoothed the sheet, remembering.

"I know that, and that's the reason I've set up some tech."

"Tech?"

Now she spoking his language, and unable to help himself, he took the bait. "What kind of tech?"

"The kind of tech that if she touches you again she won't lie her way out of it. And, I wondered if you'd look at some code I wrote. It keeps crashing and maybe you could figure out the problem? I hear you're good at that."

Placing the laptop on the rolling table beside the bed, she gave him a slight smile. And she pushed the screen toward him.

Unable to help himself, his eyes swept the code, looking for mistakes. "I know what you're doing. I'm not stupid, you know?"

"I never said you were. But is it working?"

She grinned.

"Yeah, maybe." And he gave her a tiny smile as he read the code. "There, the line's looping back. Yes, there's the mistake. Look it's sending it to the wrong line."

"Is it?" Her voice innocence, he knew she'd known all along but still he felt lighter.

Her laptop dinged and she rushed to answer it. "Hello. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, loud and clear."

"Is Josh there? How's he doing? Please, I need to talk to him."

The sound of his uncle Chad's voice stabbed deep. He turned his head away, knowing that he couldn't take a chance, knowing he had to be strong.

The man had turned his back once. He couldn't open himself up like that ever again.

"Yes, hold on, he's right here."

Coach's girlfriend settled her laptop back on the rolling table and turned it toward him.

His heart ached as he saw his uncle Chad's rugged face on the computer.

"Joshua tree? Are you there?"

He couldn't take this. The burn in his stomach lit him on fire, making his words harsh.

"Don't you dare call me that. You've no right."

"Okay. Right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm aware your dad called you that. Bad call on my part."

"He did so don't you EVER call me that."

"Okay, me bad. I should never have said it."

"No, you shouldn't have." Again, he burned inside.

"Look, let's start over and go with Josh."

"Whatever. How about we just don't do this at all. I'm nothing to you anyway. Stop pretending you care."

"Josh, I'm sorry. I promise. I won't make that mistake again. How are you feeling?"

"Like total shit. I've spent several days on the verge of dying. Shame I missed the boat. But how about you not bother with the concerned act? We both know you don't have time for me or my sister and brother. Go write some stupid code or something. Isn't Goggle's calling?"

His uncle Chad at least had the good grace to look pained. "That's not true. Your aunt didn't want us to contact you. Said we were disrupting your lives and making it harder for all of you. Even threatened us with a lawsuit if we kept bothering you. Your aunt insisted that we back off and let you settle in."

He wanted to believe that she had kept them away but he couldn't chance it.

"And for once she's right, you're bothering me."

"God, Josh, I know you're a teenager but give me a break. I'm trying to clear my schedule so I can fly down there at the end of the week. I'd come tomorrow but I have a deadline I'm up against. Your Uncle Bill has chartered."

"How about you two don't bother? I don't need this shit anyway. Later." He cut the man off as he reached with his good hand and closed the screen, his chest, gut on fire as his throat tightened. Tears threatened and he couldn't stand that. Damn it, the kid in him had died a long time ago. He didn't cry so he reached for the anger.

"Ms. Felicity, you should leave. I want you out of my room."

"Josh, you didn't give him a chance."

"He didn't deserve a chance. Get out of my room."

She picked up the laptop and opened it with the words, "Josh, let's call him back and."

"NOW!"

And he hit the nurse's button, his voice rising, "Can I have more painkillers? And could you clear my room? I want everyone out of my room. NO MORE VISITORS! I want her out of my room."

"On my way." He recognized Becky's voice, which meant it must be evening again and he'd lost an entire day.

"I'm not leaving."

"Yes you are." Stomach knotting, he fought the rage that threatened to engulf him. "I can't believe you called him. Who gave you the right to call him?"

"Josh, you uncles needed to know."

"NO, THEY DIDN'T! They don't care, and I don't want to talk to them. They needed to know if I die. Well, I haven't yet. Let's get our priorities straight."

"Look," she flipped her cute ponytail. "They care. I've spoken to them. You and your siblings mean something to them. They're coming."

"Yeah, when he clears his schedule. Screw him."

"Don't say that."

"I mean it. And you can damn sure speak to them again and tell them both to stay the . . . the hell of out of my business. Tell them to leave me alone."

"Josh, they want to talk to you, want to discuss what they're going to do, and they want you to come and live with them again."

"Yeah, today they want us. Whatever. I don't believe them. No, and I bet they want the check just like my aunt. I get it. I'm a check."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Then you'd be wrong."

"Wake up, do you want to go into foster care?"

"Yeah. I've spent some time thinking, and I'd think I'd be better off in foster care because at least then everyone understands the rules."

"The rules?" She frowned at him.

"Yeah, the foster parents get paid, and I don't expect them to care, and I don't have to care either. Why are you still here?" He growled at Coach's girlfriend. "Surely you have somewhere to be."

"Josh, your coach wants me to stay."

"I don't give a . . ." He shut his eyes and refused to say the word FUCK but he wanted to. "Leave!" He yelled now, his throat raw. "Leave. Get out of my room." Throwing a fit, he didn't care what happened. His stomach rolled and his head pounded and his eyes blinked back tears, and he needed her gone before he broke down and cried like a baby.

"I don't want to talk to them, and I damn sure don't want to talk to you. I want everyone to leave me alone. GET OUT!"

"Josh, calm down." Becky hit the room running. "You're going to pull something out or loose."

"Get her out of here. I don't want ANY visitors. No more damn people." His head pounded and the feeling of being helpless descended, smothering him. Struggling to sit up more, he violently shoved the rolling table away from the bed and turned it over with a crash and a solid boom.

"Felicity, go." His nurse said, "Josh, I need you to calm down. You're going to pull something and end up back in surgery."

Yet, he couldn't stop himself, stomach clenching now, he screamed, "I want out of this bed. I have to get out of here. I need to get up." Even though he knew he acted unreasonably, he reached to pull his IV out.

"Oh, no you don't, young man. As dehydrated as you are, I'm not putting that port back in."

Becky, stronger than she looked, grabbed his hand and restrained him against the bed, while she pulled a needle from her pocket.

Using her teeth, she removed the needle's cover. Holding him down with one hard, she put a shot in his IV with the other, and the painkiller burned in his veins as she effectively restrained him. Helpless, he found that his eyelids heavy and his limbs unless as he slipped effortless into the darkness but he heard their words.

"What the heck set him off?" Becky asked. "That was close. Too close."

"Me! I want to keep him out of foster care, and he's doing his level best to punish himself. He wants to sacrifice himself and he didn't like me disagreeing with him."

"Teenagers, go figure?"

"You're probably right."

#####OQ#####

"About time you're back. You missed the show."

"I warned you he's bitter and angry."

"Angry's an understatement but he's been out a while."

He heard a kiss, a smooch of lips then quiet voices as he struggled to wake up.

"Missed you," he heard Coach say.

"You too."

"No aunt?"

"Not a hide or a hair. She's MIA. Hopefully, she's hiding under a rock somewhere. I did everything I could. I just hope she stays hid and leaves these kids alone."

"Love that about you, Felicity."

"What?"

"That you care."

Again with the kissing noise.

And he thought they were kind of sweet in a gagging kind of way.

"Okay, how's Josh doing? Things haven't been quiet then?"

"Not even close. He freaked out that I contracted his uncles. Somehow, I misjudged this situation. I thought he'd be happy, but instead, talking to his uncle completely upset him. Like major explosion." She made an exploding sound. "And I never saw it coming."

"You can't always be perfect, Felicity. And he's been through a lot. Probably a lot more than he'll ever talk about."

"I get that. Guess it takes one to know one. But I can try to help him."

"What happened?"

"First, he showed a little irritation, then without warning, Josh lost it and decided to rip his IV out, and Becky absolutely put him down. Quickly."

"Forcefully?"

"Oh, yeah. You'd have seen her. She pinned him to the bed and smoothly put him out. That woman has it going on. Love her. The woman has usable skills."

"Nice to know and she's always looked out for both of us. I like her."

Again with the kissing sound.

Which made him kind of smile.

"And why do you guys think you have to be tough?" Ms. Felicity said quietly.

"Because we're guys. I truly love you, hon."

"Ditto."

And Ms. Felicity honestly sighed in total contentment, and he knew both his coach and his woman were happy and something inside him burned as he managed to get his eyes open and the two of them came into focus.

He recognized Coach's smile, the solid approval, as he looked down at his girlfriend. And the love for his woman showed in Coach's voice and memories of his mom and dad flooded his mind. Helpless, heart hurting, he remembered how they'd touched each other, how he'd known they'd loved each other, and how they'd had something special.

God, he missed them.

Barely waking, majorly doped up, high to the point it might a good thing he didn't have to get up and walk farther than the bathroom, he realized coach moved and stood beside his bed holding a large box.

"Josh. You awake?

"Barely. What time is it?"

"About seven."

"Day or night? I can't tell anymore."

"Confused?"

"Yeah. Majority."

"Night, but I brought you something. Can you sit up?"

"Okay."

He raised his bed and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

"I have to warn you it's gonna need a little work, and it's a bit scratched up but replacing a wheel shouldn't be that big of deal."

Heart racing, he gasped, as Coach pulled a battered skateboard out of the box and tears threatened. For the first time in well over a year, hot tears truly threatened his eyelids as he realized Coach held out HIS skateboard.

His skateboard, the one his dad and he'd picked out what seemed a lifetime ago.

Emotions raged savagely as his brain raced remembering.

The cops, the crash's news. Both of them gone.

His life gone.

The airport.

Him choosing that skateboard over his clothes.

His aunt emotionless face as she turned and locked the door right before she punched him.

Repeatedly.

HURT HIM BADLY, kicked him and kicked him.

But, he'd never cried. Not for her or for them.

EVER!

He toughened up.

Yes, it helped to control the urge to cry, to control something in his life.

But his control slipped and the weight of never crying for his dead parents, never crying for the loss of his imploded world, and his broken skateboard, the only piece he'd left of his dad, broke him into painful sharp pieces as Coach handed him his board,

Clearing his throat, sniffing, he managed to ask, "I thought she was gone. How'd you find her?"

"I found your board in the cannery, in that room, you and the others were trapped in buried under some rubble. I would have never found it if I hadn't seen it earlier right before I fell through when the roof collapsed."

Unable to stop himself, he hugged the skateboard to him with his good arm. But the urge to cry engulfed him. Turning his head, he bit his lip as Ms. Felicity said, "I going to get some coffee. Give you two a minute. See you both in a bit."

And he noted that she patted Coach's arm as she walked by. "We're going to talk later, Oliver."

"It was no big deal."

"Excuse me if I don't find you falling through a roof a big deal or did you do it twice? Talk. You and me. Later." And she left the room.

"Later, Felicity."

"You darn right later."

"My mom did that too. You're a lucky man."

Again the urge to cry overcame him as memories assaulted him and hot tears slowly leaked from his eyes.

"I am?"

Coach looked puzzled.

Hugging the skateboard, tears flowing, he managed to bite out the words. "My mom worried about my dad too, and they touched each all the time. Coach, I need . . . a minute to myself."

"Sure, take all the time you need." Coach turned and left the room, and Josh hugged his broken skateboard and cried. He sobbed for his parents, for his loss and for his shit life.

A while later, spent, his chest heaving, his coach returned and handed him a wad of tissues, and he blew his nose as the man entered the bathroom and returned to hand him a warm washcloth. "Wash your face. It'll help."

The warm clothe helped wash away his tears. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, don't be. Hold the clothe on your eyes for a minute."

And he did. Calmer now, he said, "Thank you, Coach, for finding my board. It means a lot, but could you do me a favor?"

"Sure, just ask." The man gave him a slight smile as he met the man's blue eyes. And Coach's eyes intense as normal.

Everything about this man was extreme.

Slowly, he handed the skateboard back to coach, with the sad words, "Coach, could you keep safe her for me?" Swallowing hard, he added, "I could lose her in foster care or detention. I don't know where I'm going to land, and someone could throw her away, thinking she's junk. Could you, please, keep her for me?"

"I'd be honored." His coach took the skateboard and placed it back in the box. "And I noted that's your skateboard's a 'she.' Did you know that my bike's a 'she?'"

"No."

"Guess it must be a guy thing, huh?" The huge man gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, and, Coach, thanks for being here. I would have never thought you'd have cared."

"Well, I do. And it's no problem, Josh. I'm here until you don't need me anymore. And I don't plan to see you in detention."

"I've been in a lot of trouble lately." He cleared his throat. "The judge will revoke my probation for fighting in school and add breaking and entering or something like that. Or maybe trespassing besides," he held up his broken arm, "I'm kind of off the soccer team."

"I'll speak with your judge. And yes, you're still on the team, you're just benched for now."

"Truly? I'm not off the team?"

"No, Josh, you're not. And I don't want you to worry that you're in trouble right now. I'll personally talk to the judge, and you'll see that things are going to get better for you."

"No jail?"

"Not if I can help it."

It seemed like a weight lifted off his chest, and he almost found a smile.

"Thanks, Coach. And will you tell Ms. Felicity that I'm sorry I went off on her? I was just . . . surprised and didn't handle it well." He swallowed hard and ducked his head.

"I'll give you a freebie since you're drugged up and have had a hard last couple days. But you won't get another if you disrespect Ms. Felicity."

"Coach, your girlfriend's hot and smart too. You're one lucky guy."

"Noticed that did you? I completely agree." And for the first time ever, he watched his coach's mouth grin wide, and he couldn't help but grin back.

"Now what I want you to do it stop worrying and work on getting well. You're a hero you know?"

"A hero?"

"Yeah, Stan's singing your praises to everyone. I hear a reporter's coming to interview you tomorrow."

"Why would a reporter want to talk to me?" His stomach fell.

"Josh, you saved Stan and Jordan's lives. You kept your head together and figured out how to get everyone out alive. I'm proud of you."

"You really are?"

"Yeah, I'm very proud of you and so are a lot of other people."

Coach's words felt good as they washed over him. He didn't know the last time anyone had been proud of him, and he straightened in the bed and kind of grinned.

Becky chose that instant to open the glass door with a tray in her hand. "Guess what, Josh? Your doctor's decided that you get to eat. Hope you like green Jello?"

"Sound wonderful right now." And it truly did.

"Well you keep that down, we'll move up to ice cream."

#####OQ#####

It was getting close to bedtime. Together, they'd taken a walk down the beach, holding each other's hand. As usual, his eyes scanned for threats and finding none, he pulled his hand from hers and slowly used his hands to frame her face, before he kissed her easy and leisurely, savoring her sweet taste under his mouth.

Pulling away, he snuggled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Felicity. I'm happy today, even with all that's going on."

"Love you back. And yeah, it's been a wild ride lately. Josh is standing on the edge right now. He could go either way."

His hands smoothed her soft skin, and he inhaled her scent, loving it, loving her. "You're right, Josh is barely holding on. I knew he was angry, lost, but I missed how far gone he really was. Every time, I think I have these kids half way figured out something like this happens. Josh's aunt beating him right under my nose. He'd been sleeping at that cannery."

"I know you like to shoulder the blame but don't. How long did you see him each day? Less than two hours?"

"Still, I noticed him hanging back, coming in late. I should have done something sooner."

"Don't, Oliver. How could you know it wasn't safe for him to sleep at home? If you want to do something help him now. He reminds me of a certain someone that was past not happy when I met him and seemed intent on punishing himself."

"Go on."

"Josh wants to go into foster care. I think he wants to do penance, and he'll do everything he can to make sure he pays a price. He hung up on his uncle. Didn't give him half a chance and was even willing to make you mad too."

"I warned him not to repeat that mistake."

"And you told me he apologized but he's almost lost. If someone doesn't convince him that he needs to take a chance, this bright kid's going to get swallowed up by the system. And the bad thing is that he's going to welcome it."

"Felicity, it's easy to become lost when people hurt you repeatedly. And she's beat him enough that he doesn't care anymore. I've been there."

"May I say what nice sharing you just did. Okay, Josh doesn't believe in miracles or anything else anymore. But, his uncles will be here tomorrow. They've charted a jet. And he's not going to be easy since he doesn't want anything to do with them."

"You don't think he'll be happy to see them then."

"I'd say a big fat NO. He so far from happy that it's not even close. But can we please table this discussion?" She pressed her body into him. "I find that as usual, I need you."

The beach seemed almost too far from the place they stayed as he moved them toward the dwelling.

"YES," he said before he added, "And since when do you say 'Please?"

"Now! Okay, you want to hear the word, please?" There was that smile.

The word came solidly out of her mouth.

"Just know that I past want you. I've discovered that I NEED YOU more than I ever thought I could need anyone."

She smiled sweetly then said, "You talk a good talk but I know you, Oliver Jonas Queen. What do you think you're doing?"

His mouth attacked her neck and made his way to her ear. "I'm doing you. And, YES, I'd be glad to do you again and again. "

Lifting her, he slammed her against his body.

He didn't care they were out in the open.

The beach was deserted.

No one could see them from the road.

The sun had gone down.

And now was as good as time as any.

She whimpered, sucking in her breath. "You're good at that I'm dying here."

His mouth returned to her neck and his hands found other warm places.

"Here?"

"Okay, here."

"Hold on to me tight, Felicity."

"I can do that. Would love to do that. Love that I get to have these non-platonic moments with you now."

He lifted her with the words, "Felicity I'm about to have you right here, we're about as far from platonic as we're every going to get, and we're way too far from the house."

"Just do it!"

She wrapped her legs tightly around him.

Bracing his feet, he shoved her short dress up and ripped her panties off.

"Oliver, darn it, I liked that pair."

But she whimpered for him.

"I'll buy you new ones."

"Promises, promises."

He pressed himself against her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I needed a good upper body workout, anyway. Hold on, Felicity."

"Always, happy to help," she said as she groaned and attacked his mouth and rocked his world.

#####OQ#####

Later, much later, he held her awesome body beside him in bed. Caging her with his body, he yawned and cherished the moment, laying there in his favorite spot in the entire world, her scent filled his senses and he drifted away, thinking about Josh.

#####OQ#####

"Hit him again." The large man with the fur hat said, "I don't like his answer."

"Hitting me isn't going to change my answer."

He spit blood on the floor, trying to hit his tormentor's boots.

"Okay, then let me try to change your mind." The man snapped open a lighter and the hiss of a propane torch reached his ears as the man abruptly melted his shirt into his lower back.

On fire, he screamed loudly.

The extreme burning on his back quickly became excruciating, unbearable, became liquid fire that melted his flesh, cooked his flesh, and he ripped free of the men holding him and became a killing machine.

"Oliver, wake up. Oliver!"

Something soft hit him in the face and he fought back, came off the bed roaring as he jerked awake and realized Felicity was no longer in the bed.

No, she stood several feet away, blonde hair wild, hugging a pillow in a death grip, her face white.

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head.

"Touch you?"

She nodded repeatedly.

"Felicity, what did I do in my sleep? I can tell by your face, I've done something in my sleep. Hurt you? Tell me. DID I HURT YOU?"

"You knocked me out of the bed." She said the words softly, and the words tugged on his heart strings.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose. This is exactly why we shouldn't sleep together." He drug his fingers through his hair, his chest tight, almost too tight and breathing became hard.

"Don't you dare go back there. We've had this fight more than once. YOU SLEEP WITH ME. YOU'RE A PART OF ME."

"That was before I pushed you out our bed without knowing I did it. I could seriously hurt you. That fact cancels out everything."

"No, it doesn't." She moved. Her hand reached and smoothed his cheek. "Don't punish yourself, Oliver. Please, you have PTSD. I get that. It's hard for both of us. But if we keep trying to work through it."

"Felicity, don't."

She stared him down, her eyes intense as she said, "Would you face it, Oliver. Accept it. You do. Now, I know you never planned to shove me out of our bed. But you have triggers and something," she gave a slight shrug before she hugged the pillow tighter and added, "Something probably about Josh's situation today brought back your old memories, and you're back to fighting for your life again. And that comes out in your sleep because you won't deal with it during the day."

He swallowed hard remembering the burn from the torch, the weeks of healing, the blisters and the oozing, the constant pain. For an instant, he shut his eyes trying not to think about the agony from the burn, trying to not get sucked back into those memories, those dark times. While he dealt with the heavy feeling in his gut caused by almost hurting her, and he wanted to scream, needed some type of release. And his words came out sharp.

"I can't handle Psych 101 right now. I need to get up. Do something."

"Oh, no you don't. You're not getting up. And there's no way your awesome brain's in a 101 level class. Try more like the 400 level."

And she threw the pillow at him, and he deftly caught it and couldn't help but grin at the view as she stood there naked in front of him.

"You know I flunked out before I ever made it to any 400 level classes. And I think you just insulted me."

She cocked her blonde head and grinned up at him. "What you're saying is my awesome brain is 400 level messed up. And what about yours? You have no room to talk since you continue to stay with me."

And she giggled making him smile once more against his will.

"We are a pair, aren't we? The brain and the brawn."

"I'll admit I've got the muscle, and we both know that you've got the brain, but why do you stay with me?"

He hadn't meant to ask but he couldn't call the words back now.

And maybe he needed her to say the words one more time.

Her eyes found his and as always they talked the best with their eyes and his heart swelled as she said with a slight smile, "I stay because I'm happy with you, Oliver. Okay, it's not what we had before. We aren't fighting crime and saving the city. And it's a little boring sometimes but something like the last few days happens, and we have purpose again."

"Normal life isn't always exciting but it's what I want. I've had enough excitement to last a lifetime. Okay with you?"

"Yeah. It is."

"I'm glad since someday, I want babies with you, only with you, and a home. Maybe not here but here isn't that bad. I want a future, a future with you."

Her smile warmed him and she tipped her head at him.

"I want those things too. And as to my head being messed up, well, I remember there's a fine line between genius and crazy. Then I try to stay on the genius side of the line. It's rather like learning to color inside the lines if you think about it."

He barked a sharp laugh as he closed his eyes for a second and shook his head.

"How do you do that to me? I tossed your sleeping defenseless body out of my bed not five minutes ago, and you're standing there naked and you giggle because my brain's messed up. Okay, but if you don't want me up, you seriously need to come back to my bed."

"Always. But I'm buying a new rug for my side of the bed. A fluffy one. Easier to land on."

She climbed back in his bed and snuggled against him, hugging him close. Her cheek against his chest, he pulled her down, savoring her warm skin against his.

"Don't joke. You want to play Psych 101. I'll play. You joke to make light of things. You joke as a coping mechanism; maybe if it's funny then it can't be that bad. Which means it can't hurt you. Well, I know better."

"Don't go there."

"Listen, Felicity, I'd never willingly hurt you, but I could truly hurt you in my sleep. You need to reconsider. I . . ." He looked away before he said, "I could hurt you. I've gone through a lot. And lately, Russia's been on my mind."

After saying the words, breathing became hard, as the idea that he could truly hurt her in his sleep attacked him. Again his chest tightened painfully as thoughts of why he couldn't control his dreams tortured him and those four damn letters haunted him.

"Okay then talk about it. Call Dig. Talk to me. Let me make an appointment with the one who will not be named. But talk to someone. You need to talk to someone."

"I can't. And this isn't Harry Potter."

"Good catch. Nice to know my movie marathon sessions have been worth something."

"I can read you know? And you still made a joke about it."

"Yeah, okay, I do that. I joke. I make light. But I have to cope with our lives somehow. You won't get help. You won't talk about your problems. I love you and need us to get better, and I have to deal somehow."

This conversation was getting too deep for him. His hands fisted, his head pounded.

"And you're lying there beating yourself up but you know what?"

"What?" His hands tightened, pulling her closer, absorbing her scent.

"I still love the now you and you're sleeping with me. No matter what." She poked her sharp fingernail into his chest with the words, "We're in this together."

Catching her hand, he placed a lingering kiss in her palm.

Carefully, she cupped his face and his chest tighten, with her words, "You surprised me tonight. You know one moment I'm dead asleep, worn out, and the next second I'm literally falling, Talk about living your dreams. Do you ever dream about falling? I dream about falling a lot."

She trailed her fingers downward, rubbing small circles, smoothing his skin, and he shut his eyes and savored her touch. "No, I dream about fighting and getting hurt."

Touching her way down his arm, she laced her fingers with his and rubbed the palm of his hand.

"You've never dreamed about falling?"

"No, I just mainly dream about my scars."

She smiled her smile at him. "Of course, you do. Well, I dream about falling sometimes. Though I'm surprised you don't have falling dreams since those dreams are supposed to mean you think your life's out of control."

"I did that to you. That's my fault. If I'd had never brought you into my life, you wouldn't have that kind of dream."

"No, that's not true. I dreamed falling dreams even before I met you. And if you hadn't asked me to help you then we would have never had us. Do you honestly regret us?"

"Of course not. I just don't want to hurt you because of my dreams, my baggage."

"I'm strong enough to survive a tumble out of bed. And I dream too not just about falling but other things too."

Her hands smoothed his chest, tracing his scars, lovingly touching his body.

"I know what you're doing," he almost growled the words.

"So what. I'm making you feel better aren't I?"

"Felicity, I flung you out of our bed in the middle of the night. I don't deserve to feel better."

"I'm okay. And yes, you do. Do you know what else I dream?"

Her hot hands made focusing on the conversation hard, among other things, as she went on. "I also dream I'm naked and can't find my clothes. But I'm looking for them."

"Naked?" He hardened, thickened, unable to stop the reaction.

"Yeah, I've looked it up. That dream means I'm hiding something."

"Hiding something?"

"Yeah. Dreamed that one a lot, the last few years, present company included sometimes. Well, lots of times. I think I'll stop since I've admitted I had . . ." She bit her lip then said, "dreams about you and I naked. Hot dreams."

He smiled even if he had knocked her out of the bed minutes earlier since she'd pretty much admitted she'd had wet dreams about him.

"Well, then you wouldn't be the only one."

"You dreamed about me naked?"

She licked her lips and the action shot straight through him, and he hardened more, seriously made him hard.

"For years. Repeatedly. I wanted you, dreamed about you right here like this. Only trust me, I wasn't looking for my clothes."

His mouth moved touching skin.

"Oh. . ."

She smiled her amazing smile that lightened his chest and made it easier to breathe as his hands smoothed her body.

But he couldn't let it go.

"Now, focus Felicity, did I hurt you? Show me where you landed. Your back, your side, your backside? Please don't lie to me. Show me."

Pointing she said, "Here on my hip and here on my elbow." She grinned a smug grin. "Do you want to kiss my boo-boos and make them better."

"This isn't a joke. I could seriously hurt you."

"It didn't hurt. It surprised me."

Inspecting her smooth flesh the best he could in the low light, he moved to kiss her elbow and her hip as he whispered, "I wish I could promise you that that will never that again. You need to let me sleep."

"Shh. . ." she placed her finger on his mouth with the words, "Oliver, you have PTSD. I've accepted it and if you would too."

"Felicity, if you want me to stay in the bed don't start with that."

Already his stomach knotted. Riley Clark's name would be coming out of her mouth next, and she's start pushing him to talk about the dream or asked him to go see the man.

"Breathe, Oliver. You're going to hyperventilate."

"No, I'm not."

"You're not that good at lying. Maybe you should give it up."

"Maybe."

"Normal Oliver answer." She shook her blonde head. "Now since I know that you don't want to talk about how you're not handling your issues, why don't you do something you're seriously good at."

"Which is?" Oh, how he loved his woman.

"Well, you're pretty good at kissing."

So he kissed her and found his spot with her, his place in this strange life they now lived and for right now, he found life pretty darn good.

Later, as he held her he said, "I love you. And okay, for you, I'll try to talk to someone. Maybe John."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I love you enough to try."

"I love you, too, Oliver."

Then her mouth and body showed him how much she loved him, and he loved her enough to try since she was worth it.

#####OQ#####

Thanks for the read and if you have time please review. As always, normal life goes on.

#####OQ#####


	43. Chapter 43

His chest was on fire. And his stomach clenched hard in response to Warren's words.

Forcing himself not to raise his voice, to keep his voice level, he said in clipped words, "What you're saying is she's going to get off scot free? That once again the wheels of justice are not just moving slowly but they aren't going to turn at all."

Warren used his best judge voice as he said, "It's in the children's best interest."

Nostrils flaring, he felt his stomach knot before he said, "Warren, she can't just get away with beating this kid up, with torturing all of them for months. This can't be happening."

"Oliver, I wouldn't put it quite like that. But exactly that's what's going to happen."

"It's not." He had nasty thoughts about what he'd like to do to the woman himself but this wasn't his city so he knew he couldn't go there.

No matter how much he truly wanted to pay Josh's aunt a little visit.

"Sorry but prosecuting her is not the way to go." Warren had the good grace to duck his head before he reached and picked up a file folder from his overloaded desk.

"I disagree. She needs to be made an example of."

"I agree but it will never stick."

"That's hard for me to swallow."

His chest was tight and aching. He wanted to punch something hard, to use his fists and do some extreme damage to something.

But he couldn't. No instead he sat there and let Warren's next words wash over him.

"Welcome to my world, Oliver. The one where I hold kids' lives in my hands. The one where most of the people I deal with are druggies, uneducated and repeat offenders. And their kids are major screw-ups. Just like Josh. Here, I want you really look at Josh's school records."

The man threw the file across the cluttered desk as he added, "Look at the number of fights he's been in the last month."

Snapping the thick file open, he noted the number of incident reports and bit his lip as he realized that Josh had been in over ten fights in the last month.

And there was a pending Family in Need of Services petition in the file.

Josh had been headed back to court.

Regardless, he knew Josh was on probation, heck all of his players were on probation, and Josh shouldn't be in one fight let alone ten fights for one month but he managed to keep a straight face.

Yet, Warren gave him a half smile. "Oliver, understand if we prosecute, her lawyer's going to have a field day making the state look like a fool, and truthfully, as you see the paperwork was already filed and he's headed back to court. One look at all those fights and I'd have revoked Josh's probation, and he'd be sitting in detention right now. And that's going to come up."

"He's past angry. And from my experience anger is something that people share. The rage comes out."

"I know that. That's exactly the reason that I wanted to make a go of this soccer team. These kids need another outlet."

"Well and maybe it's working for some of them."

"Really?" Warren looked over his glasses at him.

"Really. They helped looked for Josh and the others. They stepped up."

He watched Warren tent his hands together and give slight grin before he added, "But it's too soon to tell what's going to happen but what I do know is they worked as a team to try to find those teens, and I know Josh was getting beat up at home and that's what led to him fighting at school. Look at it as sharing the pain."

"I understand that but I'm seriously thinking about revoking his probation."

"You need to side stepped that mistake. Josh is a freaking genius and the last thing he needs is to go into illegal 101."

"I've not noted that genius side of him showing, since every time I've seen him he hasn't proven he's very smart since I could send him to detention for the next couple of years."

"Well note now that he's smart. Extremely clever." He looked hard at Warren, who snorted in response.

Oliver fought his grin as he added, "Warren, you do realize Josh was locked in a room and took two old antique rotary phones, two old flashlights and jumpstarted an ancient land line to save two teens he wasn't even sure he was friends with at the time? I would have died in that room. What about you?"

"Seriously? The kid Macgyvered his way out of that room?" Warren looked over his glasses at him, and he suppressed his small grin.

"Yeah, that's a good way to look at. Josh totally Macgyvered all of them out of that room, and he was smart enough to be a team player and teach Stan how to send out the SOS. And this was after he'd taught Stan to field splinted his own leg, then got Stan to splint his broken arm, and he made the decision not to dig Jordan out of the debris so the kid wouldn't bleed to death before help could come."

"You're sure about that?" Warren said in a deep voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Got pictures if you want to see them. And then he proceeded to teach Stan how to use the handset to not just dial out but to tap out SOS enough times to my phone that Felicity realized out it was a cry for help. I didn't get it at all but still he managed to save all of them."

"I still find that hard to believe."

He looked hard into Warren's eyes before he said, "Believe it, without Josh, all of them would have died. And who knows when this town would have finally found their bodies or rather their bones?"

"Alright but we can't go after Janie, not with Josh's history. Trust me, Oliver, we'll lose if we push this. We have to let her go."

He looked again and his chest tightened and he hated this.

"So, what you're telling me it that since he has a history of fighting, Janie Hall's going to get away with beating him up for over a year. Did you look at his bruising? Did you see all the stages of bruising he had? This wasn't a one-time thing."

"No. But that doesn't change the fact he's violated his probation repeatedly."

Snapping open the file folder, he scanned the records again and read the ten records of fighting in the last thirty days, the last being Stan and him fighting in the lunch room. His stomach plummeted as he said, "Warren, she darn near killed him the last time. His bruising shows that she knocks him around on a normal basis. Understand that?"

His chest tightened, and he found that he wanted to beat the woman up himself, to show her how it felt to be defenseless and have someone bully you.

Unable to stop himself, his hands became fists.

And he didn't hit women, unless they put themselves out there and fought him.

Something he knew Janie Hall would never do.

Yet, sometimes, he wanted to make an exception.

Janie Hall was that exception.

He knew that this wasn't over.

No, not by a long shot.

Warren was looking unhappy as he said, "I'm aware of that. But the DA doesn't think he can make the charges stick. She's already hired a lawyer from Dallas, who's clearly stated that they intend to fight every step of the way. They are not standing down."

"Can't you do something?"

He shut his eyes for an instant and sighed, knowing that this battle was lost.

"No." Warren said with a slight wince. "My hands are tied. And the last thing I want to do is put those three kids through a trial. Talk about a nightmare. Look, Oliver, how well do you think Josh will do on the stand talking about his aunt beating the hell out of him on a normal basis?"

His frown was hard as Warren added, "Me I'm thinking not well."

Frowning, knowing he'd agreed, he said hopefully, "You could clear the room. Give him some space."

Warren shook his head as he replied, "I won't be the judge this time. I do juvie. I don't prosecute. It's not my thing. Judge Sanders will be the judge if this goes to court."

"He could clear the room. Close it."

Warren held his graze as he said, "Yes, but even if Sander's closes the room, Josh and his siblings will still have to testify in front of people. Oliver, the Sixth Amendment gives Janie Hall the right to face her accusers and it won't happen in my court room. I won't have any control of the situation. Her lawyer will cross-examine, and he'll do everything he can to make these kids out as liars."

"Damn." He looked at his boots and exhaled.

"Yeah, damn. And trust me they'll not play fair. All of the kids will have to testify."

"You don't think Josh could handle it?"

"No, I don't. Honestly, I don't think it would be good for the others either but it would be especially hard for Josh. Think about it, Oliver. Could you sincerely get up on the stand and admit that your aunt beat you up on a regular basis and then go back to high school and face the bullies?"

He frowned hard as Warren said, "Then it will get worse when the papers pick it up. The press will eat it up. It will all come back. Josh's dad working for Google, his parents' tragic accident, and Josh's being a hero and saving the other two will be trending on Twitter for God's sake. Frankly, Oliver this will turn into a media circus. I know you've been in the spot light in the past. Do you want that for Josh and the others?"

Shutting his eyes, he sighed and then opened them and closed Josh's folder and tossed it back on the cluttered desk with the words, "No, but there has to be another way. She's not going to just get away with this. I don't want her to get away with this."

"I agree but remember we're dealing with three children's lives, and really more lives than that since Stan and Jordan and all their families are going to get pulled in too."

He sighed and said, "Okay so what can you do?"

"This." The man ticked off on his fingers. "One, I can remove the children permanently from her home."

"And you should."

Warren gave a slight grin before he added, "Next I can terminate her rights. I can find her guilty of abuse and neglect and put her on the child registry, so she'll never work around children again. With time, I might even get her replaced at the library and get her off the city council but those are maybe's."

His stomach knotted at the unfairness.

And he found it hard to tamp down the hate as he spat, "She should at least lose her job. I mean she's still working around children."

Warren looked pained as he said, "Not happening. She's been the library director for fifteen years with a pristine record. I've checked into it. Unless she makes a huge mistake and hurts a child on the job, we can't touch her. And Janie isn't stupid so no way she's going there."

"Okay, but what going to happen to the kids now? They have two uncles from California willing to step up and take custody."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. They had custody of them before the aunt showed up. They've passed a home study. They are willing to step up."

"All of these kids are wards of the state now. There are rules. I can't just sign them over and let them move back to California. Josh still has months of probation left and there's talk about charging him with trespassing and maybe."

Darkly, he interrupted the judge, with the words, "That's the aunt. I heard her threaten to get him locked up until he's nineteen. I came in after she tweaked his broken arm."

Warren frowned again.

"She's making Josh out to be the bad guy in this situation. The aunt's still attempting to control the situation. Look, Warren, those kids spent two days trapped in hell in that cannery. Jordan Franks may still lose both his legs, Josh is heading to foster care, and Stan got off easy with a broken leg and severe dehydration. I'd say they've paid for their sins of being stupid boys that wanted to beat each other up and fell through a roof into a living hell."

The judge crossed his arms in front of this chest and frowned before he said, "I don't control those things. That's up to the precursor."

"But we both know that you can make a call and make it go away. Make the call, Warren. Make it go away. Josh deserves better. He's already paid his dues."

"Are you asking me to break the rules?" Warren's voice and eyes were hard, and Oliver could see where he would be unbending in the courtroom.

But that wasn't the point.

No, Josh and his sibling needing help was the point.

"No, just bend them a little." He gave the man one of his winning, slash convincing smiles. "And give his uncles a chance. I've spoken with them. They're willing to establish residence here until Josh finishes his probation. They honestly seem to care about these children, and truthfully, these kids need someone who cares about them. They've been living in hell for over a year and no one noticed, including myself. We need to cut them a break. Haven't they suffered enough?"

Warren refused to meet his eyes but he said, "They need to understand that Child Protective Services will be keeping a close eye on them? Are they ready for that?"

"They understand that. And believe me, they get that there'll be hoops to jump through."

The man's lips formed a straight line before he said, "Alright, I'll have my admin set a hearing date and get them on the docket."

"Could we make it this week?"

"You're pushing."

"Maybe, but it'd be nice if Josh never had to go into foster care, and he's still in critical care. It's been two days and his doctor hasn't downgraded him. But the sooner we get those kids settled in a stable place the better. They need to sort out their lives."

"Okay, I'll work them in." The man made a note on a yellow notepad before he ask, "Now, Oliver, how's the team coming along?"

Swallowing, he resisted the urge to crack his neck, as he said, "They're coming along."

"I'll be at the first game."

"You and most of the town from what I hear. Can't say it's going to be pretty."

Standing, Warren extended his hand, and the man stood and shook his hand with the words, "Not looking for pretty but it's next week right?"

"Right, next Wednesday."

"I'm looking forward to it. And Oliver, thank you for the great job you've been doing with these teens."

He sighed as he stood and shook Warren's hand.

Then turned and left the room.

####OQ####

Josh turned over when his uncle entered the room.

His heart pounded.

Loudly.

Truly loudly.

And his throat was dry.

"So you're changing it up? Bet you and Chad had a huddle." He said, refusing to look at his uncle, although he wanted to look.

He truly missed his uncles.

A lot since they reminded him of a home he didn't have anymore. A home that had disappear with his parents.

And his heart ached as he refused to allow hope to enter his mind.

Hope was a foolish emotion and he knew it.

He couldn't afford to hope.

Not anymore.

Since hope hurt too much and he didn't need it.

"Yeah, I lost the coin toss. So hey, Josh. "

He threw his arm over his eyes, totally shutting his uncle out, while refusing the smile.

"Okay, Josh, I get that you're mad."

"Damn right I am." He was rude and didn't care.

"Okay, I'll give you that I deserve that. And I understand that we failed all of you but your aunt honestly threatened us. We were."

"Don't make excuses. I don't want to hear them. Don't need it."

"Alright. How about we start over?"

The bed moved and he knew his uncle had sat on the bed beside his turned back.

He shuttered as his uncle's hand settled solidly on his shoulder with the words, "Please, Josh, would you consider you and your sister and brother coming to live with us?"

Now his heart raced hard.

He shrugged off his uncle's hand with the words, "You don't deserve to touch me."

Extreme feelings overpowered him as his uncle removed his hand and added, "Josh, I'm truly sorry. I know we dropped the ball but we can still salvage this. We get that we messed up."

"No you fucked up."

He heard his uncle inhale sharply before he said, "Yeah we did. And I'm sorry but come on Josh, I need you to just work with us."

"How?" The word came out in a croak, and he cleared his throat and swallowed hard as his brain tried to grasp that his uncle had just apologized to him, had said that he was sorry.

"Well, we will have to move here for a while. You're in the court system and you need to stay in school here."

"I hate school here. They don't get me."

"We know that. But give us a chance. Things will change. You can go part time to public school and also do some classes on line. We get you back in the advanced classes, back to stuff you liked to do. Back to coding and programming again. Back to something that challenges you."

Unable to stop himself, he turned and looked his uncle in the face for the first time as he said, "Really?"

Then he instantly pulled away again since he was afraid to hope, afraid that this wasn't real.

After all those times she'd hurt him, he found hoping for better times hard.

No he was used to times being bad.

But his uncle played hard ball, with the words, "Please, Josh, give us a chance. Since I know your dad and mom would want that for you and your sister and brother. Things could be better. I mean it."

"Don't talk about them."

"No. I have to. But I'll wait until later, when you're ready. But for now I'm kind of missing your hugs. Think you could give me just a tiny one?"

"I don't hug anymore, Uncle Chad. I'm too big."

And he looked away, refusing himself the contact.

No, he didn't deserve the contact.

His uncle looked sad as he said, "You're never too big to hug me, Josh. Do you think you could you humor this old man for a minute? I've really missed you."

"Have you?" He had a hard time believing it.

Uncle Bill's hand reached and smoothed his neck as he said, "Yes, I've missed you a lot. Josh, I want you to know you were really special since you were my first nephew."

He was caving.

His chest was imploding.

Totally imploding.

"I'm not special. Not anymore. Stop blowing smoke up my ass."

He had to get that out there.

No way was he special.

But instead of pushing him away, his uncle reached and unable to stop himself, he allowed the man, his uncle, to enfold him gently, to pull him into his body, and he bit his lip, as he stopped himself from crying out as his uncle rocked him into his body and said, "Shut up. I love you, Josh, always and forever. Things will work out, I promise. I have to make this right for you and for your brother and sister."

Unable to help himself, he squeezed the man tight against his aching chest as he said, "Don't promise something you can't do. I don't need that shit."

His hands pulled tight but he looked at the ceiling.

"Watch your mouth, and trust me. We'll do what needs to be done. We're looking into places here. We've got you and your sibling back now."

He pulled back.

"You're really going to move here?"

His heart raced.

"Yeah, we'll here for the long haul, and we'll do what has to be done to get you out of the system. Then we'll move all of you back home. And Josh, I promise she'll never touch you again. Look at me."

He looked and found his Uncle's brown eyes.

The man nodded and glared hard before he said, "I mean it. She'll never touch you again, Josh. We'll keep you safe now. You can lean on us, on me. And believe me, your dad would kick my ass if I didn't, if we didn't keep you and your siblings safe. And your mom, Josh, let me tell you I don't even want to go there."

"She was something wasn't she?" Josh said quietly.

"Yeah, she was past awesome. And she would have fought for all of you. And believe me, she's been kicking my ass for a while even from the grave. So don't worry about me, about us. We've got this now and we're in this for the long haul."

"Truly?"

"Truly! And we're never backing down again. Believe me. And we've explained that to your coach that we're here and we're staying here. We're going to rent something that's big enough for all of us. And until you're over probation, we're here. Give us another chance."

And he sagged as he relaxed and let his uncle hold him with the words, "Okay, I'll give you a chance."

His uncle pulled him closer and patted his back with the words, "Awesome, Josh, since it's time you came home." 

"I want to come home." He realized he had just said that out loud.

"Then welcome home, Josh."

He looked down before he said softly, "Thanks!"

"Yeah." As the man held him close and he allowed it.

#####OQ#####

Felicity was slightly smiling as he opened the door of their cottage.

"Glad to see you're home. Finally."

"Finally?"

"Yeah, you do realize that Anna and Riley are coming for dinner in like twenty minutes?"

"Crap."

"Yeah." And then she moved into his space and kissed him, using her tongue, letting him know he turned her on before she released him.

He absorbed her before he forced his lips from hers and said, "Pizza?"

"Yeah," she said as she pressed herself into him. "Totally love you, babe. I'll call it in a minute but for now give me your mouth."

"Did I mention I love you?"

"Good to know." And his mouth found hers before they ordered pizza.

#####OQ#####

I'm back. Hope you liked it. Please review if you have any time.


	44. Chapter 44

Frowning, his mouth a straight line, he stood beside her on the porch and watched Riley and Anna wave, get in their car, and drive away, while his heart contracted.

He braced, noting, that even if she stood beside him, she made sure not to touch him, and her anger radiated plainly off her body in waves.

This didn't bode well for him.

And he knew it.

Time slowed.

No time crawled and he dreaded what was about to happen since he knew Felicity and she was pissed.

The car's tail lights disappeared from sight, and Felicity stiffened, stood straight and tall and snapped, "Well, wasn't that awkward. Good fracking job, Oliver."

"Felicity. Can we not do this."

"Can we not do this? Jesus, Oliver, I don't think I've ever seen you be more passive aggressive or more of a jerk."

"Don't go there."

"Oh, not only am I'm going there but I want you to know that I hope you're proud."

"Proud?" Now she confused him.

"Yeah, proud since you not only managed to ruin not just my dinner party, but I'm sure Anna's headache was her way to end the evening early and get away from uninviting you."

Her face white and he heaped the self-blame on himself.

The what ifs drowned him. Pressing his lips together, he straighten his spine and refused to rise to the bait even though he knew he was guilty.

Turning her head away, she looked at the beach before crossing her arms in front of her chest, clearly hugging herself, before she said, "Honestly, Oliver, you're answering me with silence."

Waiting for an instant, she added, "You know that's not a good idea since not talking to me right now just reinforces the fact that you're being passive aggressive."

"Please, I'm not being passive aggressive."

"You truly are."

She found his eyes and he broke the contact and looked down.

The urge to punch something hard filled him. He needed it right now and that made his words sharp and crisp. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say I'm sorry?"

He looked into her eyes before he said harshly, "Well then don't hold your breath."

And his chest hurt as her face fell and he said hurriedly, "Look, I didn't feel up to entertaining the Clarks. And I'm not sorry about that. But what do you want? Do you want me to tell you that I don't like them? Do you want me to tell you I'm sorry?"

"Oh, stop lying, Oliver. We both know you're aren't sorry at all." She uncrossed her arms and glared at him. "Not only are you not sorry, you're glad they're gone."

He couldn't look into her eyes, knowing she was right. "You're blowing this out of portion. It wasn't that bad. They came, they ate and they left."

"Not cute, not cute at all and this evening was nothing short of a train wreck."

"Look, I tried."

He watched the surf come in.

"You did not TRY." She talked with her hands. "You sat there in your own head and acted like you weren't even in the room with us. And no matter how hard I tried to pull you into the conversation, you zoned out and refused to join the discussion for most of the evening."

"I joined in the discussion about the chick flick you and Anna were talking about. I even agreed with Riley."

Thunder crossed her face and she spat, "I'll give you that but other than that you zoned out."

Had he?

Had he zoned out?

He'd knew he'd been quiet and mainly kept his own council since he hadn't wanted to encourage the Clark's company but he'd been there.

He was sure of it.

Unable to stop himself, his eyes scanned the beach, scouring the road, sweeping the area for danger that wasn't there, while avoiding talking.

Yet, he knew she wouldn't be put off that easy since this was Felicity.

"Just like you're doing to me right now. You're ignoring me. Earth to Oliver. I know you're in there."

Unexpectedly, she reached out to touch his chest, and his hand caught hers, stopping her before she touched him.

"Sorry." He eased up on his grip on her hand, rubbing his thumb over the spot he'd just squeezed then released her hand with the words, "Habit. Feel free to put your hands on me all you want. And I swear, Felicity I was here. I was engaged. And I didn't flash."

And he shot her a quick smile, feeling like he teetered on the edge of a mountain again and waited to fall off.

He hated fighting with her and that was exactly what she wanted to do right now. She was angry with him and that was the long and short of it. But his head was beginning to hurt so powering through, so he turned up his smile's wattage.

"I think I've mentioned that smile of yours doesn't impress me much, especially right now."

Yet, a slight smile lit her face as she stepped toward him and surprised him by reaching and giving him a hug, pressing her face into his chest, surrounding him with her vanilla scent.

He enfolded her in his arms and inhaled the scent that was pure Felicity and his heart quickened. Gruffly, he said, "Now who's the liar?"

"I'm not going to grace that with a response." She sighed before she said softly and sweetly, "I like them, Oliver. I want to be friends with them. I need your help here. I need you to try to like them. Come on for me?"

"I understand you need friends, Felicity."

Placing her tiny hot hands on his chest, she pushed her body away from him.

"No you don't." He caught her, halting her. His hands moved to her hips, keeping her close to him, stepping into her body.

She hissed the words, "But you have a problem with Riley?"

"I didn't say that."

She pulled her face out of his chest, with the words, "You didn't have to. As usual you're a terrible liar. But Riley's married to Anna, which means they're a package deal, and I like Anna."

"I'm not asking you to give up Anna."

"That's good since you don't get to choose my friends. Let's get that out there right now. Just because we're a couple, you don't get to choose my friends."

"Understood, and I wasn't trying to choose your friends."

His headache nagged right behind his eye. He needed to shut this discussion down and probably needed to take his damn pills.

"Well you'd better not. But back to you and Riley."

He groaned and released her so he could rub his temple as she blurted out, "Just what is freaking you out about Riley? Is it his legs being gone?"

"No. It's not his legs. In fact, I'm inspired by him. I understand he's worked hard to be where he is."

It was true, he could handle the fact Riley's legs were gone. He'd seen worse than that.

Her voice went soft before she said, "Then is it the fact he's a Dr. and he specializes in PTSD?"

"Could you give me a break and not say those letters." He shut his eyes for an instant.

"Okay. Then what was the problem tonight? I've never seen you that quiet. Were you worried he'd note your . . . your problem. Is that why you didn't talk tonight? Is that why you shut everyone, including me, out tonight?"

Stepping back, his stomach plummeting, his voice harsh, he said, "Felicity, I was just in my head tonight and that's the way it was."

"The way it was? Well let me tell you, Oliver. I don't like the way it was."

"What do you want from me?" His voice sounded strained even to himself as he bit the words out, "I lived alone a long time. Even when I was with people I was alone. I got used to it."

"You haven't been alone for years now."

He exhaled sharply as he added, "I still got used to being in my own head. So that's what I do when I'm trying to figure things out. I go into my head. I live in my head. If you'd think about it you'd know that about me. So stop acting like tonight is a big surprise and just let this go."

She snapped, "Not a chance, and I haven't seen you that much up in your head in a long time, not since the early years. So I'm tired of you blowing me off and making excuses about spending time with the Clarks."

"I'm not."

Okay maybe he was but he was keeping that fact to himself.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oliver, I know your team's good, that you're making progress with them."

"How would you know? When's the last time you came to practice?"

"Do I have to remind you that you have a facebook page filled with video?"

His chest constricted and he was finding it hard to breathe.

"And I'm well aware that you're upset that Josh's aunt is getting off scott free right now but that doesn't mean one of us won't still figure out how to take her down. I have total faith that she'll slip up, and between the two of us, we'll nail her to the wall for what she did to those kids. You know I haven't stopped looking for a way to do that."

"I'm know that and I'm proud of you as usual. And I honestly believe if she messes up you'll be there to take her down but my team's not as good as you think."

"They're not horrible. I've seen footage. They're moving the ball around now so stop borrowing trouble."

"I'm not. I just know I haven't had enough time to train them. I still haven't figured out how to make the game fun for them, and we're going to lose big time when we start competing against other teams next week."

"It can be that bad."

"We're going to get slaughtered in front of the entire town. I see crash and burn in my team's near future."

"Would you stop freaking over something you can't control, well I mean you can control the fun part, but as usual you need to stop thinking you need to control everything. So what if your team loses?"

"People don't like to lose, Felicity, and you know it."

"What I know is they've only been playing soccer a little while. Come on, realize that you're teaching them a new sport, teaching them how to be a team member, to be a part of a team. All good things and life's not just about winning, Oliver. And from the people I've talked to, this town will get behind your team win or lose."

"You say that but we'll see how they react when we get our butts brutally kicked, which is going to seriously happen since I still don't have a goalie. Not to mention, Josh could still go to jail or end up in foster care. Jordan could still lose his legs. And."

She cut him off, "And Riley seriously freaks you out."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. It couldn't be more clear if you were hold a blinking neon sign."

Her eyes found his before she added, "And if you'd just spend some time with him, if you'd give him half a chance. Go to a session with him."

Talking with her hands again, she was pushing his buttons as she said, "I think you'd like him. He's a lot like you. He pushes himself. He's driven. Intense. He runs to stay in shape. He's competitive. Plays tennis. Why don't you invite him to run with you? Come on, you could be friends."

"I don't think that's going to happen."

Ever, he thought.

So what if Riley sounded like someone he would like. The man put him on edge just breathing.

"What are you afraid he'll outrun you? Anna says he's fast and he runs on blades."

"Let it go, Felicity. Just let it go."

"I can't."

He looked her up and down, keeping his quiet, as she snapped, "Yes, you can and that's not happening. But what is happening is you're going to figure out how to get along with him and the next time they come to dinner you're going to act like you're glad they're here. There'll be no repeats of tonight."

Red, he saw total red and he talked with his hands as he spat the words, "You asked them to dinner, not me. I haven't been quiet about the fact I don't like Riley Clark." He pointed his finger. "You knew I didn't want them to come. But did that stop you?"

He shook his head as he pressed on. "But you still pushed until you got what you wanted. What did you expect me to welcome them with open arms? You knew how I felt so I'd stop pushing me if I were you since I didn't want them at my table."

Crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, he frowned down at her.

So his Felicity.

He grinned as she didn't back down.

No, instead, she pushed as he stood there, as she stepped straight into his personal space and spat words at him.

God, she was beautiful when she was angry, and he was instantly reminded of the picture of a drenched cat, as she hissed, "Well I didn't expect you act petty and ignore them. I mean I know you know how to fake like you like someone but you were terrible tonight. Frack you were being fracking petty. I hate that about you."

"And I hate arguing with you but that doesn't slow you down does it?"

He stepped closer, chesting her.

Her eyes widen for an instant, but they narrowed as she pushed against his solid chest. "Tough, you act a fool, you bear the consequences and news flash, Oliver, you're royally pissing me off. And you need to step back."

Not moving, not giving an inch, his voice sharp. "Well then that would be two of us so why don't we agree to disagree and end this stupidity. Let me repeat I DID NOT INVITE THEM NOW this discussion's over!"

His heart pounded like he'd been running, and he didn't how much longer he could continue to stand here arguing with her.

He needed to escape this.

His hands fisted as his heart pumped wildly.

The color drained out of her face then she spat the words, "What did I forget to ask the billionaire's permission? Did I forget my place by inviting guests for dinner at my own house?"

Clearly, he'd hurt her and his stomach plummeted as her face fell before she managed to school her features.

Instantly, his heart contracted.

"Felicity, I didn't mean . . ."

She took a step back and he couldn't help but step toward her.

"Yes, you did."

He started to lie but thought better of it. Wrapping his hand around the back of his neck, he caught her beautiful eyes, stared deep as he tried to repair, tried to convince her that what she thought he'd just said wasn't true "Okay, you're right. I'm a jerk. Truly, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I would never want you to think that this wasn't your house, your place. And I wasn't trying to make you think you couldn't invite people to your home. I was just . . ."

"What, Oliver, spit it out."

Again she stepped into his space, slowly this time, as he stepped into hers, biting out the words, "Fine, I don't like Riley Clark. I don't even want to be in the same room with him, let along want to be friends with him or have dinner with him and his wife. Happy now?"

She stepped back and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she said in a strained voice, "No, I'm not and that's your PTSD talking. Oh, sorry, I said those letters but tough. Deal with it!"

"I'm trying."

"NO, YOU'RE NOT! And I get that you don't like Riley but we need friends. I need friends, and WE need to start somewhere. You're only against Riley because you don't want to face the."

He cut her off, his heart pounding in his ears. "I'm not stopping you from being friends with them. Your friends are your decision. They're just not for me. How about we live and let live?"

"I don't think so since what you mean," she made air quotes with her fingers, "is that I can be friends with them, not you. Never you. I can't believe that you, the man who singlehandedly beat up a room full of grown men can't deal with his own PT."

"Felicity," he cut her off, "I've ask you repeatedly not to say those letters."

"Deal with it."

She glared up at him as he shut his eyes for an instant and exhaled out his nose, before saying, "You've had your say now. I heard you so this discussion is over right now."

His heart raced, the sound pounding in his ears.

But she didn't back down.

"No, we're doing this and now. You were rude tonight. Not almost rude but RUDE. And you disappointed me tonight."

He looked at his feet and bit his lip as she pulled the guilt card.

"First you were supposed to cook for them and you conveniently forgot, so we ordered takeout pizza. That sucked since I'd bragged about your cooking."

"Maybe you shouldn't have."

"Well I did."

He had the good grace to flinch as she added, "I could have forgiven you that, overlooked your stupid stuff but I'm not going to. Frack no, we're going to figure this crazy crap out that you've got going through your head right now. We're going to sort your irrational brain out, and I mean right the frack now. Talk to me, Oliver."

Swallowing hard, he said, "Okay, the last couple of days have been rough on me. The Clark's acted like they understood that. Why can't you?"

"Oh, I understand we've both been busy. But that doesn't excuse you because we both know you that's not what's going on here."

As normal, she told it like it was and his eyes swept the water, watching the waves lap against the shore as his hand twitched.

"And it was awesome that we managed to save your lost boys from the cannery."

"Yes, since Josh and Jordan would have been dead by now. When I think I turned my phone off." He shook his head.

"Shh, you're not perfect, no one is, and you got them out. That's what's important that you saved them."

"We saved them. You and me. Jordan could still lose his legs."

"I know," she said quietly. "But at least he has a shot now. We gave him that. And Josh has a chance now too."

Swallowing, he glanced at her and gave a small grin as he nodded. "Another time, I dropped the ball. I knew he was always late. I knew he was lagging behind the rest of them."

"And I understand it disappointing you didn't catch that Josh's aunt was beating him, but Oliver neither did his teachers, his probation officer or Anna, his counselor. You've had how many weeks with him?"

"Six."

"Six whole weeks, what a couple of hours a day? Some of them have had well over a year. Oliver, he was hiding in plain sight, and I know you wish we could nail Josh's aunt to the wall for what she did to him, to all of them, but right now we can't. Though personally, I'm beyond frustrated that I can't find something to hang her with."

"I know. Look we don't have to rehash this."

"Then you'd be wrong since I've barely even mentioned the time I spent at the hospital protecting Josh, dealing with his uncles and then dealing with you being disappointed with Warren."

"I never said I was disappointed."

"Oliver, you didn't have to."

And he grinned as he watched her brain power on, knowing her mind worked like a computer, processing everything, while he insisted, "Just let it go. I don't want to talk about this."

"Not likely and don't cut me off." She shook her index finger at him, as she began to rant as she waved her tiny hands, with the words, "Get used to it. This is the way my mind works. I rehash. I rethink and I process and reprocess until the right answer pops up."

"Then it needs to hurry up and pop up."

"Funny, okay I understand you've had a hard week. News flash," her hands stopped and her pointer finger poked him in the chest, as she added, "We both have, and yeah, once again justice isn't justice. But is it ever?"

"Doesn't seem to be." He said in a quiet voice as he continued to watch the waves beat the shore.

"Look at me."

His eyes found her face. "These kids are adrift. Josh and you have lot in common and once again you find yourself almost helpless to change things. I know you struggle with that situation."

His eyes left her face and found the ocean again. Inhaling deeply, he watched the waves roll in. "You're right. I hate that my hands are tied yet again." He didn't add that he truly hated that she wanted to fight. Forcing himself to breathe out through his nose, the words "Damn it," slipped out. Then he hissed, "Do you want me to say that you're right?"

"No, I want you to say that you're totally dying to be your alter ego right now. I know you want to dress in green leather, unpack that bow of yours, and pay a certain someone a short and painful visit. Then I know you want you to come back home to me and act like nothing ever happened. But we both know you can't do that."

"You know me well." His voice dark, menacing, and his stomach knotted.

"I truly wish you could do just that but we both know that won't work in this place we're living."

"I know that. Doesn't mean I can't dream."

He caught her eyes and he watched them softened as she added, "I understand you ache to pay Josh's aunt back for everything she's done to those kids, but we both know that the Arrow can't live in this small town."

"He could visit."

Stepping toward him, moving straight into his space, standing close enough he could smell her, he found that he leaned into her soft hand. Moving, she reached and smoothed his cheek, before her hand fell away and she said, "But Oliver, we both know that the Arrow's not welcome here since you and I need a real life, a normal life."

His eyes found hers, and he watched as she bit her lip and his dick twitched.

Her voice turned pouty, sexy, as she said, "No matter how much I love you in green leather, which I do, I really do, almost as much as I love you shirtless on the salmon ladder, but we both know if we want to stay here the Arrow can never visit."

"Not even once, huh?" He winked at her.

Cutting the air with her hand, she gave a small grin before she added the quiet words, "Sadly but no. If we want to make a life here, the Arrow can't visit."

"I know and as much as I hate it, I agree. If we want to have a normal life there's no room for the Arrow."

"Damn shame," she said before adding, "But I still love you, Oliver, still love the now you. Remember that and hold it close."

"I will."

He almost smiled, yet, suppressed the emotion but still the corners of his lips twitched.

Her hand reached out and smoothed his cheek as she added, "And someday I want your babies, our babies. They'd be beautiful don't you think?"

Unable to help himself, unable to stop, he kissed her forehead, savoring her touch before she said, "Both of us need to remember we both need the now you."

A small smile tugged at his lips and he found her eyes again.

She was calming now.

And so was he.

Thank goodness this fight was almost over.

Geez, he hated fighting with her. But he'd figured out that if he let her rant, she'd then calm and her mood would pass and their normal life would go on.

Normal was good, even if it was still stressful at times.

He smiled down at her as she unexpectedly wickedly winked at him.

She was making him hard and he couldn't stop the smile she pulled from him, before she totally killed it with the words, "But if we're going to stay here you have to make a real effort. I need you to step up. To give it your all."

Which means?"

"Which means? Seriously, Oliver, you know and if you'd just try, if you'd step up."

"That's not true. I've tried. I've stepped up."

She actually rolled her eyes before she said, "Then you need to try harder cause you suck."

As normal, Felicity didn't cut him any slack.

No, no slack at all. Back rigid, she hammered her point home, with a finger that once again poked his chest.

"Relationships take work. Real work and you're slacking at ours. You need to do better, Oliver."

His ears were starting to ring as his clipped words exploded, "Slacking? How can you say that about me? I've never been a slacker."

"Can't prove it by me. And it's easy. Who would have ever believed that Oliver Queen's a slacker."

He shook his head.

"Only you would call me a slacker, Felicity."

"As always I call them like I see them. Besides, you need to get to work, since I like the life we're creating here and want to stay. Don't you?"

What he knew was he liked normal life, liked, hell no, he loved living normal life with her. He loved her in his bed, loved her beside him, loved her tucked tightly against him, loved her skin touching his, loved waking up and going to sleep beside her, and he was even starting to love his soccer team.

Okay, he missed being the Arrow.

He missed the excitement.

He missed the adrenaline rush, but he was getting older and his used up body ached, and some days he was almost too old to jump off of building. Just the other day, his shoulder had reminded him that falling through a roof had hurt more than when he was younger.

And he wasn't getting any younger.

His mind taunted him with images of Felicity large with his child, taunted him with a life where he slept in peace and all was good.

And both he and Felicity were happy.

He ached for a chance at such a life.

Lifting his chin, he gave a sharp nod of his head.

Reaching, she took his hand and squeezed, before she said, "Believe me, we need friends. We need to make a life here. Anna and Riley are friendly to me, willing, and I want to make friends here. Oliver, we need to start a life, and we need other people."

"I have you. That's enough."

Her eyes were sad. "I love you but, no, we, no me and you need other friends too. I know you miss your Arrow cave, John and the rest of your old life. I get that you miss the ability to hide from real life but look around you, Oliver, that life is gone. Accept it. We need to embrace this life. This is what we have now."

"We already have friends, Felicity."

He was grasping at straws and he knew it.

"Name them."

Her face hard, she narrowed her eyes at him and he felt the pressure to give her a right answer.

Yes, she stood there, clearly daring him, just like she'd truly drawn a line in the sand and then she'd dared him to step over the line.

Since, she'd effectivity put him on the spot, his stomach churned as he pressed his lips together and breathed out his nose and threw out, "We have John and Lyla."

She laughed.

"And we have Thea and Laurel."

Giggling now, she swallowed her laughter then talked with her hands as she ask, "Have you spoken to Lyla lately? You do remember kidnapping baby Sara right? Believe me Lyla remembers vividly, and I'm not sure she's forgiven you yet, though Lyla is a trooper so maybe. And Thea's your sister, she's stuck with you. And maybe, I'll give you Laurel, truly but when was the last time you talked to her? The last time you reached out?"

Damn since he knew it'd been a while.

"Well at least John texts me back now." He said quietly.

She smiled up at him, that damn light filled smile that rocked his world, the grin that made him feel like her smile belonged only to him, before she said, "I'm glad John's talking to you again. I know how important he is to you, to both of us. But, Oliver, he's miles away, and we need people here."

"Barry and Iris, don't forget them." 

"Not here, though with Barry, he could turn up at any second."

Turning, he looked out at the ocean and nodded his head, unable to answer her in that instant, since emotions he didn't want were almost overpowering him.

Her hand moved and he allowed her touch, allowed her small hand to curl around his as he savored her soft skin.

Leaning in, she said, "We need friends. I know it's hard but we need a life and here seems good to me. What about you?"

"I like it here."

"Good since neither of us are getting any younger."

He felt his love for her grow in his chest as she added, "I've got the hospital here and you've got your team."

"That's good for both of us."

She pulled him closer and nuzzled his neck and his breathing sped up. "I like it here. Making a life here seems good to me right now. What about you?"

He watched the surf as he pulled her closer. "Yeah, here's good. Really good."

Stomach clinching, he added, "Being here with you is good. Too good sometimes and I don't know how to handle it. I keep waiting for the bad to happen again."

"Life doesn't come with guarantees. We need to live for now and now's good. We can do this."

"Okay, but I'm worried since when you've lived like I have, friends are a liability."

Releasing his hand, she moved into his body, wrapping her arms around him, with the words, "I understand that you think like that. I know you thought I was a liability for a long time but look where we are now."

"I was trying to protect you."

"I know that and I understand that this being together thing is hard for you."

"You don't know how hard." He grinned at her.

She blushed before she sigh, "You're strong. You can do this. And I know both of us have problems letting people in, but we need figure out how to let them in. I love you but I need other people too."

Heart pounding, he watched the surf crash onto the beach as he said nothing. He knew she wanted him to assure her, to tell her that he could do this.

But he didn't honestly know if he could do what she wanted.

What if he didn't have it in him?

Could he let other people in?

Letting her in had been a massive undertaking and his mind whispered "And you've never let her all the way in."

He didn't know if he ever come and could he let others in?

"Stop panicking, Oliver." She squeezed his chest, hugging him tighter.

"I'm not."

God she knew him so well.

Breathing in her scent, he placed his chin on top of her head.

"You're such a liar. Please don't lie to me."

Her hand reached and smoothed his face, and he threw caution to the wind and bent down and took her mouth, needing to taste her, needing to not have this conversation and hoping to distract her from the truth.

A long while later, as both of them touched, tasted and the very air hummed between them when he lifted his head, and she smiled dreamily up at him and said, "I do realize you didn't agree to anything I said, but I'm still thinking early bedtime. What to join me my lover?"

Her hand swept down and squeezed his ass.

"Yeah, I am," he answered, as his throat thickened and that wasn' t the only thing that had thickened.

Picking her up, lifting her, his heart pounded as she wrapped her legs around him and he said, "Felicity, I love the way you think."

"Well, I love the way you think too. God, you're hot. Hurry. I need you now."

His mouth found her bare flesh as he said, "Do you know that you're killing me. The way you taste. I can't . . ."

"Here, right here." She pulled his head down and said, "You're just what I need, right there. Yes, kiss me right there," then her hot mouth found his skin.

"Oh yeah. You're what I need, what I want. What I've wanted for so long."

His hand found her and she trembled for him, as his mouth worked her smooth skin as he promised, "I'm going to make you scream."

"Now that's a plan. But stop on the way and take your pills. I saw you rubbing her head."

"Damn pills."

"Take them," she said, and he did then she rewarded him by wrapping herself completely around him as he kicked the door shut behind them and carried her into the bedroom, his heart pounding as he lowered both of them down into the bed and captured both of her wrists. Pulling them, over her head, he said, "Hold on to the pillow, Felicity, until I tell you to let go. Whatever you do don't let go."

"I won't, Oliver. I'll never let go of you."

Her eyes sparkled as she bit her bottom lip and he groaned then said, "That's it, hold on. I have to taste you and make you scream."

'Yeah," she said, with a sigh, "make me scream."

"Okay," he said, "But you'll scream my name."

And she did later as he grunted hers as he pressed deep and shuttered.

Then he wrapped his arms tightly around her and managed to sleep.

And tonight he didn't dream.

#####OQ####

As always thank for the read and hope to hear from you.

 


	45. Chapter 45

Okay, my spouse has been really sick. First colon cancer and then lung. Lots of time in the hospital, two major surgeries, and still it's been forever since I've got to go to work. Funny I never thought I'd miss going to work. Yet, I still love this story. I hope you like this update. Enjoy.

#####OQ####

Later, at the end of a very long day, after he’d given her all of his attention, and she’d blown his mind, and now he lay in bed, wonderfully numb and beyond tired.

Sleep threatened and the only reason he managed to still be awake was that he wanted to savor her soft skin a few more moments.

He never took her silky skin for granted, and he never would, since he’d spent too long waiting and aching to be in this exact spot.

But between Mae's higher dose of blood pressure medication, and what she did to him, wearing him out, he needed to fall out and sleep.

She snuggled closer. Her hands smoothing his back, drawing small circles on his scarred skin, and he exhaled and tightened his grip.

Yet, fatigue pulled him solidly down.

Normally, he could stay awake after sex but the blood pressure drug’s side effects worked against him tonight.

Losing the good fight, he felt sleep beckon.

He drifted in that sweet, pleasant place between sleep and wakefulness, as she pushed on him to turn over so she could hold him, pulling him close and engulfing him with her body and her scent.

Loving it, loving her, he allowed her touch, rather he relished it, like one would savor a double chocolate fudge treat, with nuts and whipped crème.

Enjoying her touch, he inhaled and pulled her arms closer as he softly said her name.

In his almost dream state, he knew when she settled her smooth skin against his back, and he drifted peacefully away.

But then she moved.

Jerking awake, he realized she’d rolled away to her back.

Eyes wide, he heard her exhale sharply, and he missed her skin’s warmth.

Turning, she punched her pillow repeatedly and his mind moved into overdrive.

Slowly, he flipped over and pulled her close, spooning with her, placing his body against hers as he kissed her soft neck and whispered, “Nite. Shh, go to sleep. Rest. I’m tired.”

Pushing against him, she turned and his eyes snapped open, as she said quietly, “I can’t. I wish I could but I just can't.”

“You can, just shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

“I can’t. Oliver, I need to tell you something.”

Rolling on his back, he put his arm behind his head. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

“Well . . .”

“Didn’t I tire you out? I’d be willing to go another round if you’re up for it.” He teased.

Even in the dark, he surveyed her skin, and watched her blush pink, as the color rose on her cheek bones.

And yes, his chest swelled and he smiled.

“No, I mean yes. It’s not that, and I didn’t say I had a problem.”

Yet, he heard it in her voice.

She had a problem.

And it was a major Felicity problem if the problem was keeping her awake.

“Look, I’m tired, almost exhausted, but I can tell something’s bothering you, so spit it out.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

Jesus, she was cute when she bit her lip like that.

His dick hardened at the sight of her and he grinned.

“Alright, and it’s probably not going to be the last time I'm not going to be happy with you. Just go on and tell me, so we can both go to sleep or things are going to get interesting and neither of us aren’t going to be sleeping.”

He thrust into her softness and exhaled as she gasped before she said, “It’s time.”

Yawning, he ask, “Time for what?”

His eye lids were closing against his will.

“It’s time for you to go see Riley in his office.”

His eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply. Sleep, now was the farthest thing from his mind as he became wide awake.

Dumping her back in the bed, he jerked straight up with the word, “Whoa.”

 “Whoa?”

“Yeah, whoa, it means, STOP!”

“Of course, it means stop. The word whoa has meant stop for centuries.” She rolled and braced her head on her elbow, as she glared at him.

And his blood ran cold as he saw red.

Felicity was playing him and he knew it.

He spat the words, “Yeah, stop and I mean stop talking about this because that isn’t happening. I AM NOT SEEING RILEY in his office.”

 “Yes, you are.” She tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.

 “No, I’m not.”

 “Yes, you are. I’ve made you an appointment and you’re going. Enough excuses. Enough waiting.”

He rolled his eyes before he pushed away from her and sat up in the bed. “I am not. Believe me, I’m NOT going.”

“Stop raising your voice at me, since you're going.” But her voice rose too.

“Felicity.” His stomach tight now, he spat the words, “I can’t talk to Riley. I’ve told you that. You will cancel that appointment since you had no right making it without asking me.”

“We both know you’d have never agreed. So NO! That’s not happening.” Her blonde hair flew as she sat straight up. “I mean it. I’ve given you time and space, but it’s time you start seeing Riley so you can get better. It’s time you start trying.”

“Stop pushing me. You can’t just decide that I’m going to go and see that man.”

“Oliver, I can and I have. I know you don’t want change, but I love you and you need help. We need help, and I know you can do this.”

“I’m not doing it. Now I’m tired.”

Staring hard at him, she insisted, “Riley’s a great guy. You have to try if you’re going to get better.”

“I’ve tried. Haven't I tried?" He ticked the points off on his fingers. "I’m on meds. I’m seeing Mae on a regular basis. I’ve let her run tests, lots of tests.”

But he looked down when he said the words.

“Whatever!” She rolled her eyes. “I know you say you don’t like Riley, but if you’d just give him half a chance, maybe he could help you, or us.”

He growled instead of answered as he looked at the ceiling like it had the answers.

Her voice softened. “I understand it’s hard for you to trust him, but I’ve been giving him a chance, and I’m starting to feel better about my parents, more at peace with them, with the fact that I have abandonment issues, and with our relationship, and I know if you would just try, maybe he could help you, help us, too. Please, Oliver. For me? For us? I want us to make it as a couple. Don’t you?”

Turning into his chest, she reached and her hand smoothed his face, cupping his cheek.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned into her hand, loving her touch on his skin.

Jesus, her blue eyes pulled him in, enticed him to do what she wanted.

“Come on,” she whispered as her hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him close. “You say you dislike him but I heard you side with him tonight when we were talking about that movie ‘Me Before You.’”

He pulled her closer against his chest and laid back, draping her across his body as he appreciated her body against his for an instant. Smoothing her soft skin, he said, “That movie’s a chick flick. And not only a chick flick but a tear jerker too. Of course, I sided with him. Riley and I are men, Felicity, and men don’t do chick flicks unless forced.”

She pulled away, sat up and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “Men do too watch chick flicks. You’ve watched chick flicks with me.”

First he grinned, and then he said, “Okay, I’ll let you in on a little secret about guys.”

Arching an eyebrow, she said, “Do tell.”

“Well, when I’m first dating a woman I watch chick flicks but believe me, once you’re sleeping in my bed . . .”

“You can’t be serious.”

His hand cupped her face before he added, “Like a heart attack. News flash, love, before a man sleeps with you, yeah, we’ll watch chick flicks, while we’re trying to sleep with you, yeah, we’ll watch chick flicks but once you’re a sure thing. Not happening.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He grinned before he kissed her soft, fragrant, skin, before he whispered against her skin, “No, it’s not. I’m a man and men don’t watch chick flicks after the chick is sleeping in our bed.”

“I don’t believe you just said that.”

“Are you a chick?”

“Okay, I guess I am.”

“Are you sleeping in my bed?”

“Looks like it.”

“Then no chick flicks for me.”

“Liar, you’d watch them with me. And you’re going to see Riley. Thought I forgot that didn’t you?” Giggling, she pressed her body against him, and he grinned into her skin, since she brought out the very best in him.

Lord, how could she possibly be this cute while she infuriated him, while she made him want to kill her? 

"I'm not going."

Breathing through her nose, she added, “Okay, I've noted you don't want to go, but now let me give you a news flash, Oliver, you need help. You don’t sleep and it drives me crazy, really crazy. I want to keep you around for a long time, want us to have a lot of years together and you need to sleep more.”

He shut his eyes and breathed out through his nose, before he said, “So noted. And I could sleep right now if you’d be quiet. I’m exhausted, worn out. How about we talk about this tomorrow? Since we’ve come full circle now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please, let’s stop talking about this before we both get angry. How about we sleep on it and have another go at it tomorrow?”

“No, I need you to agree tonight. I need your dreams to go away. Enough is enough and we’ve got to find answers. It’s time. Frankly, it’s past time.”

He moved to kiss her soundly, to shut her up since she wasn’t giving a damn inch as usual.

But she turned her head and his lips landed on her cheek.

“Not going to be that easy.”

“Come on cut me a little slack. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“NOT HAPPENING. Man up, Oliver.”

Totally, like her to be hard headed and frankly right now loving her was hard, since his anger wanted to overpower his love.

“Jesus woman, do you always have to push me?”

“I won’t even justify that with an answer.”

Of course, she’d stand her ground. Since she always pushed him, always challenged him and something warmed his stomach as a tiny shiver rocked him.

“Look, forget it. I’m not going to see Riley.”

She took the kid gloves off as she said heatedly, “You are and it’s not like you don’t know that you need help. Admit it, for God’s sake. You threw me bodily out of our bed the other night. I’m willing to admit you scared me. Now, I need you to try, Oliver. Please for us. "

Punching him in the face would have felt better, and his words were crisp as he pushed, “Or what?”

She bit her lip and looked away. “I don’t know, but I do know I can’t stop thinking about it. I told you it’s okay. I understand you didn’t mean to do it. And I try to convince myself it’s okay but is it? What if you decide to choke me in my sleep? What if you. . .” Her voice trailed off and she refused to meet his eyes.

“What if I hurt you? Spit it out.” He finished her sentence as her words hurt, stung, sunk deep and hurt his heart, since he’d feared for a long time that he’d hurt her in his sleep, worried himself sick about sleeping next to her, and knew he was being selfish since he kept sleeping with her when he knew he could hurt her.

Yet, when she batted those baby blues at him, he caved a little. "Okay, I can do Riley and Anna as friends, maybe. But, I don't want therapy. I just can’t. Look, I've been better lately. Soccer practice is going pretty well. I'm sleeping more. I’m taking my meds. Please, give me a little more time, Felicity."

"You're lying about sleeping, Oliver. And you’re out of time. What happens the next time?” He adverted his eyes as she added, “We both know that you hardly sleep.”

“I’m doing better.”

“Stop lying. You’re not, and yes, trust me, you need therapy. Please, give Riley a chance.”

“Don’t say that.”

Her hands smoothed his face. “I’m, so, going there.”

Then she gave him that smile, that special smile, he thought belonged only to him.

Heat filled him as she smiled at him and his dick stirred, reminding him of how lovey she was. He had just had her and already he wanted more, wanted to make both of them forget the bad.

Yes, he loved her smile, the smile that lit his world up, and made him beyond hard, as she added, “I've been going to therapy a couple of weeks now, and I've let you ignore this conversation but enough is enough, Oliver.”

Reaching, she hugged him, tightened her arms around him, as she added, “And I’ve given you time to adjust to the idea of going to therapy but it’s time. Please, it’s past time."

He answered her with silence, by looking at a spot on the wall, and he knew he was hurting her but couldn’t stop.

Reaching, she pulled his face down almost to hers before she gave him her pouty face. "For me? Please?"

 Yet, he couldn’t. "No, you go to therapy tomorrow. I’m glad you think it’s helping. You keep going. I want you to get better."

His hand swept her smooth cheek, touched her velvet skin and he shut his eyes, inhaled and sighed.

“I’m tired, Felicity, worn out. Need to rest. Let’s go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

"That’s not going to work this time. You have an appointment tomorrow at one. Not me but you. One o'clock, right after lunch. I made you that appointment and you’re going. And believe me, I’m already good since I’m with you. You’re what I need."

Heat filled his chest at her words and he answered back, "I’m glad but listen to me."

“No, you listen to me. You’re going tomorrow for us.” Her voice stung.

His heart rate sped up. "Felicity, I know we’ve got history, a lot of history, but you can't force me, can’t push me to do this. I need more time. So stop pushing."

"No, and I don’t care that you have angry face."

She flashed him one of her amazing special smiles and it was all he could do not to melt.

"That smile of yours isn't going to work this time. I know normally your smile works but not this time.”

Pushing her hand away from him, he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and stuck out his chin.

 "I'm not going to see Riley. You need to let that one go."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said sharply, "Stop acting like a child, Oliver, for yes, you are going."

 “I’m NOT.”

"Yes, you are and I need you to live, Oliver. I LOVE YOU DAMN IT."

Her sad face broke his heart, and he looked away before he said harshly, “I’m trying to live. Mae almost has my blood pressure under control. I’m doing a lot better. I want to live, and I want to live with you. Please, FELICITY! Stop pushing me."

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Come on, just give Riley a chance to help you with your PTSD. You can do this."

“Don’t say those letters.” His voice was gruff and hard.

“PTSD.” She said repeatedly as she poked him with her pointer finger.

"Hand grenades. Now there’s something I know a little bit about."  His hands caught her hand, holding it and he jerked her hard into his body. His mouth found the nape of her neck and kissed.

"Awesome that you’re teasing me, Oliver, but remember Riley's lost both his legs, had his legs blow off, so I’d say he understands about having a hard time. You need to think about that.”

“I’m not going there, Felicity, and you shouldn’t compare us.”

 “I can’t help it.”

“Yes you can.”

She stared him down. “Okay, now you really have angry face. But believe me, you’re going to that appointment."

His head pounded.

Shutting his eyes, he spat the words, "You had no right to make me an appointment, so you can just cancel it. Or better yet, you go in my place."

"I'm not going to cancel because you're going.” Her hands smoothed his chest. “Nothing’s changed and I need change. You still haven't dealt with your dreams. Mae has upped the dosage again and again and you're still dreaming, still having night terrors. You haven't dealt with your PTSD at all. You're still a walking time bomb. Do you want to land back in CCU? Do you want to have a stroke? Do you want to die and leave me alone? Or what about if you decide I’m the enemy?"

She thrust out her bottom lip and tipped her head at him looking really cute and he had to look away as he said forcefully, “I'm keeping it together. I told you I’m sorry. Believe me that's not going to ever happen again."

But, no matter how cute she was, how dare she? He had it under control. He was making sure of it by keeping a rigid rein on himself.

A very rigid rein on himself.

So what if he was losing weight again?

"Oliver, I love you, but I don’t believe you, so I am giving you a choice. Either you go to your appointment or . . ." She sat up in the bed and pulled away from him.

"Or what?" He raised his head and propped it on his hand.

"Or I'm not sleeping with you from now on. Not until you agree to get help.”

She cut the air with her hand. “You get nothing, nada, zip. I don't mean that like it sounds but then again, yes, I do. You're cut off."

Then, she grabbed her pillow and rolled naked out of their bed.

Sitting up, he groaned loudly. "Felicity, seriously, you don't mean that. You're being childish now."

"No, you are by refusing to try, to get help. Admit it, you like Riley. You could do this if you’d just try."

“Felicity, you don’t mean this. Don’t do this.” He sat up in the bed.

Back straight, she walked naked to the dresser. Placing her pillow on top of the dresser, she opened the middle drawer and pulled out one of his t-shirts.

Oh, how he loved her body, and his dick jump just from the sight of her reaching for his t-shirt.

Slowly, she pulled his gray t-shirt over her head, then flipped her blonde hair, which for some reason he found sexy as hell.

Damn it, but he ached to be that t-shirt right now, ached to be plastered against her body, against her hot skin just like that shirt.

Slamming the dresser drawer shut, she opened another drawer. Pulling out a pair of hot red panties, she slowly pulled them up her awesome long legs until she cover up that wonderful ass of hers.

He groaned deep in his throat.

Okay, she had achieved killing him now since all he could think about was taking those red panties back off her, with his teeth.

Oh, yes, very slowly, with his teeth until he reached smooth, warm, skin.

And right the hell now.

But he knew that wasn’t happening as she flashed him an icy look, a look that told him just how mad she was as she picked her pillow up and walked to the bedroom door.

"Felicity, don't make me come sleep with you on the couch." He yelled after her.

“Frack you, Oliver Jonas Queen.”

And she slammed the bedroom door behind her.

Falling back on the bed, he grumbled, making an ugly face.

Flipping over on his side, he punched his pillow repeatedly and muttered, “Fine, I’ll teach her a lesson. I don't need her to sleep. I can refrain from touching her for one night. It wasn’t like we hadn’t already had sex tonight.”

He punched his pillow again reminding himself that he'd refrained for years.

He knew how to NOT touch her.

He’d had lots of practice, years of practice, just wanting her and not having.

What was one measly night?

Nothing, he assured himself.

Nothing at all, he’d just go to sleep.

If she wanted to sleep on the couch without him then fine, just fine.

Let her.

Shit, he was getting hard, just thinking about her on the couch and her sleeping alone.

She was the one that had left their bed not him, he assured himself.

Yes, he’d show her. She could just sleep on the couch without him.

Reaching, he shut off the light.

Turing turned on his side, he punched the pillow more than once. And he forced himself to try to sleep. He told himself to NOT think about her on the couch in his damn clingy t-shirt and those red hot panties.

Not that it was working.

A small sound, a very tiny sound reached his ears. And he hardened himself to the noise.

She wasn't going to control him like this.

He was not that EASY!

So what if it sounded like she was crying?

If he gave in, she’d use this method again.

He tried to ignore the sound, as her sobbing got louder, and guilt lay heavy on him as he realized that in all their fights, all their arguments she'd never used tears on him. She had walked away with tears in her eyes but never once had he heard her or seen her cry.

Well, she should have since her tears worked. Already, he struggled with wanting to go to her. Just the thought he’d made her cry caused his stomach to plummet and his chest to ache.

Before he could stop himself, he rolled out of the bed. Crossing the room, he yanked open the door with her name on his lips.

"Felicity? Please, don't do that."

"Go away, Oliver." She gave a small, heart filled sob. "I'm mad at you, since, you won't even try."

Oh, yes, she was crying.

Guilt attacked him, dragging him down.

Crap, he'd made her cry because he wouldn't go and see Riley. He’d made her cry because he wouldn't even try.

"And, you're going to die and leave me alone anyway, so I might as well get used to it, get used to sleeping alone again."

And she sniffed.

And his heart contracted.

"I'm not going to die." His voice solid. He tried to inject the fact he was going to survive, no matter what.

“You don’t know that. Can’t promise that.”

And before he knew it, he'd crossed the room and picked her up and cradled her in his arms, and he was shhhing her and saying, "Okay, you win. I'll go."

“You’re just saying that.” She planted her face in his chest, sobbing, as her body shook in his arms.

“No, I mean it. I’ll go. I promise. I’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

"Really?" Looking up at him, he found her slight smile watery to say the least.

But her tiny slight smile, the light filled one that he truly believed she reserved just for him shows through, the one that assured him that she'd chosen him. Moving, he kicked the bedroom door shut, then threw her playfully on the bed and pinned her with his body, his weight.

His hands smoothed his t-shirt against her skin, molding it to her skin, as his mouth found the nape of her neck and sucked so slightly, as he said, "I need you too, past need you."

"Then hold on," she said with a moan as she wrapped herself around him.

"I want to be this t-shirt," he whispered in her ear. "To be this close to your skin, to touch you, wrap myself around you. All of me wants to be this t-shirt. Don't ever do that again."

"What?"

"Leave me to sleep alone."

“Oliver,” she laughed after she said his name. “You hardly sleep now.”

“I know but I sleep better with you. Don’t leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

And his mouth savored her skin.

#####OQ#####

Later, much later as he held her and dropped kisses onto her head, just before she fell asleep, she said, "If I’d have known crying would make you cave so quickly, we would have been sleeping together years ago. Or was it the red panties?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that."

"Okay, that's probably for the best." But he could see her smile as her eyes fluttered shut.

And he thought, yes, it was the panties, probably, mainly, but then it could have been her tears or the t-shirt. It didn't matter. And he whispered, "I just need you in my life."

#####OQ#####

"If you were to rate you anxiety between one for none and ten for the worst you have ever experienced, what number would you give it right now?"

Riley sat across the table from him, his expression neutral and his heart kicked into overdrive.

“I don’t know if I can put a number on it.”

“Try.”

The man looked in straight into the eye as he opened a box and took out a board that had holes in it.

It was a board game he'd never seen before.

“Okay, we’re going to play a game.” He wiped his damp hands down his slacks.

“Yeah, I’ve found that games help put people at ease.”

He realized it wasn’t working for him, since his heart hammered against his chest, like he’d fought ten men, but he still managed to say, "Who said I was anxious?"

"Oliver, that's a clear lie by avoidance. I see how you turned that back on me and didn't answer the question. I would bet you're a master at that skill. Years of practice, no doubt. We’ll have to work on that."

"Aggravation." He read the name of the game. "I've never played it."

"And you’re still avoiding the real question,” he said, “You're the pro at this, but I know you’re anxious. So answer the question. I need a baseline here."

"I'm not anxious."

"Your hand betrays you, Oliver. I've noted the small tick you have in your hands. I see the way you hold your body straight and rigid. So put a number on it. One to ten. One meaning that you have no anxiety, which is probably never and ten meaning you really need to hit something. And don't lie. This isn't going to work at all if you lie to me. Felicity has warned me that you’ll try to lie to me. So don’t."

He shut his eyes for an instant. And he breathed out through his nose and said, "Okay, five."

"Good, so we'll call that about an eight? Now what two colors do you want to be? Orange and blue or yellow and white?"

"Two?"

"Yes, it helps make the game fair. One color I’m behind you, and one color you’ll be behind me. So we both have the same chance to knock the other home."

"I'm surprised Felicity didn't tell you that I don't play well with others."

"Oh yes, she mentioned that among other things."

"What things?"

"I think they call that patient doctor confidentiality."

"But you can tell me that Felicity said I don't play well with others."

"No, you said it, I merely agreed."

He sighed and realized Riley was sharp. He'd have to be on his toes here.

"Now pick two colors."

"Okay, orange and blue."

Riley handed him a box of dice. "Pick one."

The box contained red dice, green dice and white dice. And he frowned in indecision.

"It's not a test, Oliver. Just pick a dice."

“You sure?” He caught Riley’s eye.

Nodding, the man said, “I’m sure. Pick one.”

“Okay.”

He chose a red dice because it reminded him of her. And Felicity looked awesome in a tight red dress. Felicity looked hot in red lipstick. Red equaled his Felicity.

"Rules of the game are it takes a one or a six to get out. If you roll a six you get an extra turn. If you take a man out, you get an extra turn. This," he pointed to the holes with the stars, "is called Short, if you land exactly there, then you can go the fast track around to get back to home, which is the option of the game. To win you have to get all your marbles home. This of course is the middle." He pointed to the hole in the middle.

"You can go to the middle from anywhere but you have to land exactly here. And you can come out anywhere but you have to have a one to get out. You can go first. Roll."

He rolled and got a five. Riley rolled and got a one and he was out. He rolled again and got a two.

Riley rolled and got a six and got another man out then rolled again, "You should always get off your start if you can," he added. "Yes, you can't just sit. Just like life you have to move forward. And you have made some progress with your PTSD, Oliver. You've accepted that you could have a life. You've committed to Felicity and asked her to marry you. All those things are a step in the right direction."

Finally, Oliver got a man out and the game progressed. He decided he didn't like it when Riley knocked him back home. About the fourth time, Riley sent him home, he said, "No one likes to go back to the beginning again but sometimes it's necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Yes, to start over is sometimes the best thing for us. Look at you and Felicity, you two have started over together."

It was true he and Felicity had driven away. They’d started over. They were trying to create a brand new life, a normal life.

Oliver took a chance and jumped into the middle and found he couldn't roll a one to get out to save his life, which thankfully wasn’t an issue at this moment.

Riley finally nailed him with a five and a small grin and sent him back home with the words, "Sometimes we put ourselves in a situation that we can't get out of, and we have to have help to find our way back."

Finally the game was over and Riley won, though at the end it was close since he only had one more marble to get home.

Oliver frowned because he hated to lose but Riley said, "And this game is like life. Sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. But like life, it's the roll of the dice, and we can't always control our lives, for we never really know what’s going to happen next. Now, Oliver, rate your anxiety between one and ten. Honestly, please."

He realized he was very calm and he said, "One?"

"Good, now do you have a happy place, a good thought?"

"Yes," and he did.

"Okay, I want you to envision it now. Shut your eyes if you want. Can you see it?"

"Yes." He reached for the memory of her sitting on the beach between his legs, watching the sunset with her settled comfortably against him, her scent surrounding him, and her soft body pressed against his.

It was one of his favorite memories.

Yet, his stomach tightened, the feeling of free falling nibbling at him, kicking his pulse up, as his adrenaline tightened his muscles, making breathing harder.

"Now, I want you to remember an event that brothers you, something that makes you angry. Maybe something you dream about, that disrupts your sleep. Pick the image that makes you the angriest.”

“Who said I was angry?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m damn sure angry that one second I had legs and the next they’re blown off, so believe me, I recognize the emotion when I see it. But you can get only better if you try, if you work at it.”

Exhaling, he ask quietly, as he looked at a place on the wall beyond Riley’s shoulder, “Can you make the nightmares go away?”

The silence stretched out before he shifted his sight to watch Riley frown and move in his seat before he tented his fingers. “Nightmares are tricky things. People build walls in their minds to survive the day, construct barriers to cope with memories. We use self-help methods. We keep busy, push ourselves to exhaustion to sleep, and use exercise, booze, drugs, sex, whatever it takes to self-medicate to control, to maintain and to keep the memories, the guilt, the pain, the self-hate, whatever the person is dealing with inside at bay. But at night, the barriers drop away and our minds try to work out the conflict in our dreams. It’s not easy to find the key to stop dreams.”

 “Then you’ve had no success helping people with dreams?” His heart sank and he told himself that he knew this therapy crap was a total waste of his time. No one could help him and his problems and he knew it.

Riley stared him straight in the eye. “I didn’t say that I couldn’t help but you have to be willing to try, and it will take work and time. But the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

“Lao Tzu.”

Grinning, the man, nodded. “You know your quotes. Philosophy student?”

“Hardly, I’ve just met some interesting people in my life.”

“Why am I’m not surprised? But now the question is are you brave enough to take that step?”

He exhaled, realizing Riley knew exactly how to push his buttons and there was nothing he could do about it. Lifting his chin, he nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Excellent. Then let’s talk about the fact that we all get angry.”

“I try not to get angry.”

“Alright, so do I. But when I do. . .”

As he watched, Riley cracked his neck, and he understood that Riley also had issues, and he knew it for sure when the man said evenly, “I feel my anger in my chest, my muscles, and my throat. Mainly right here.” The man closed his eyes as he laid his hand over his chest, then sighed before he said, “Can you tell me where you feel anger in your body?"

The words slipped out.

"My chest tightens, my throat constricts, and my stomach plunges. And my fists ache."

He saw Hedeon's face and his discomfort rose by leaps and bounds.

"Focus on the image that causes those feelings, and I want you to follow my fingers now. Try to track my fingers with your eyes. Look at my fingers, don’t move your head only your eyes. Follow my fingers."

The man moved his two fingers and he focused.

Watching, Riley's fingers as he moved them back and forth, he worked to track them with his eyes.

"Good, now tell me something about the image. Anything. Something that doesn’t upset you."

"I hated him."

“Why? Did he hurt you?”

“YES! Damn it. YES.”

“He can’t hurt you here. Listen to me. Tell me what he did to you.”

“I can’t.” Breathing became harder for him.

"Okay, don’t tell me. Just follow my fingers. Only my fingers.”

“I . . .”

“Listen to my voice. You’re not there. You’re in my office. Now, I want you to track my fingers. Pretend it’s a movie. Is it cold?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hurt?”

“YES. STOP, I can’t do this.”

 “Yes you can. Just, try to stay here, Oliver. No flashing. Stay here. Feel the chair.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Yes, you can. That’s it. Breath slower. You’re safe."

“I’m not. He’s here. He’s . . .”

The sharp blade flickered bloody red in his mind.

The razor sharp blade moved. The devil slowly took the stitches out of his angry wound.

“He’s what? Hurting you? Are you hurt?”

“Yes.” He panted.

“Bleeding? Are you bleeding?”

“Yes, wait, no more. I. . . can’t . . . talk about this. I just can’t.”

“Yes YOU CAN. Tell me something about the place you’re in. Are you tied up? Tell me. Rope? Hand cuffs? Chains?”

“Chains. . . yes, I’m in chains. I can’t get away. I’m . . . trapped. STOP. I don’t want to talk about it.”

His chest tightened, his heart rate spiked, and he shut his eyes, blocking the man’s fingers out.

"No, OLIVER, damn it, open your eyes and watch my fingers. Come on. You can process this event. I’m not asking you to talk about it. Just let it run through in your head like a movie. It can’t hurt you anymore. I promise you. No pain any longer. But I need you to watch my fingers."

But it was too late.

He was there now.

Hedeon cut him, opening his wound.

Lunging, the man stabbed his sharp knife in his gaping wound and twisted the blade.

He could stop the scream that erupted from his mouth.

Weak, he sagged hard against the chains that bit into his wrists as he hung, helpless.

“Ask me.” Hedeon demanded as the sharp knife came again and again.

His heart raced like he had run for miles.

The blood pounded in his ears, in his chest.

“I can’t.”

“Hold on.”

Chest tight, he found breathing getting harder as the memories crashed into his mind.

 “I need to stop.”

"Just a little longer. Oliver, you’re doing really well. Just follow my fingers. That’s it. Good. Now I want you to take a step back from the event. Try to watch the incident like it’s a movie. It cannot hurt you. I promise you that it can’t hurt you."

But, he had problems tracing Riley's fingers. His hands gripped the chair’s arm rest, desperately, cramping his fingers as he tried to find now.

The room faded away.

His mind wanted to go there, wanted to go back to that terrible place.

“Stay with me. Don’t flash.”

“Wait, I smell blood. I have to STOP.”

"Eyes open, Oliver.” Riley’s voice said sharply. “Listen to me. You’re in my office and you’re okay, safe. Don't shut your eyes. NO, you don't get to flash.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Stay with me, just keep following my fingers. Track my fingers.”

Forcing himself to think of the man’s fingers as a target, he managed to track Riley’s fingers.

“Good, now, I want you to visualize that you’re boxing up that memory and storing it away in a lock box. Lock it away."

"It’s not that easy."

"I know that but try. Think of a box. Put the memory in a box and shut the lid. Put it away."

But he was in chains again, bleeding, hurting, and embracing the pain. The dark rage and the cage were coming. He knew what was going to happen next, what always happened next.

“I have to stop.” He trembled now, heart racing, instantly hyper aware of every breath that came in and out of his lungs.

Mike would be stitching his chest soon, and he’d be back in the damn cage.

"It won't. I'm not doing this. I have to STOP."

"Yes, you can." Riley snapped his fingers, "Here Oliver, stay here. Watch my fingers. Check your breathing. You’re breathing too rapidly. Think about your happy place, I want you to step away from the memory."

He shut his eyes, grounded himself, needing to find Felicity and the sunset.

His hand reached for his chest, expecting liquid pain, expecting blood, his blood.

"What do you see? Tell me what do you see?" Riley urged him.

“My blood. Stop. Just stop.” His breathing became ragged.

“Watch my fingers, tell me what you see.”

"Blood. I see blood.”

“Yours?”

The blood pounding in his ears as he gasped the word, “YES. No more. Stop. I have to stop. I can't do this."

"Oliver, I want you to breathe in through your nose and out through your nose, think only about your breathing. Focus now. Look around, see the room, feel the chair you are sitting in. Try to keep watching my fingers. Good, Oliver. I'm going to stop now. Just keep breathing in and out. Okay, now rate your anxiety level between one and ten."

He breathed in and out a couple more times, as he realized his panic wasn't off the charts. No, it wasn't too bad at all. "Four," he finally said in amazement.

"That is awesome, Oliver. Good job. And if you are only a four, you've done really well."

"I feel strange."

"That’s normal. Your brain’s trying to process what someone did to you. Just let it happen. Now do you want to try again?"

"Okay."

"Then I'll see you," he flipped open his laptop and said, "in two days, same time."

“Okay.”

“And, Oliver, maybe you shouldn’t sleep with Felicity.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it might not be safe for her.”

“I’d never hurt her on purpose.”

Memories of the night he tossed her out of their bed came to mind and his gut tightened.

“You’re not stupid. You’re aware you have issues, Oliver, and I would hate for anything to happen to her. You could hurt her and not mean to.”

“You have issues, too, Riley. Do you sleep with Anna?”

The man grinned. “Okay, I’m going to call that check. I’ll see you in a couple of days. My receptionist will make you an appointment. Oh, and Oliver, I’m looking forward to your team’s first soccer game next week.”

Standing, he said harshly, “Great, you and about half of the town.”

“I sense some resentment in your tone.”

 “Yeah, I’ve got some resentment. A lot of people are expecting this soccer team to do well, and I’m thinking they’re going to be majorly disappointed.”

“You expect too much from yourself. But, honestly, if you have a problem with the team that you’d like to talk about, I willing to listen.”

Frowning, he thought about it then shrugged. “What the heck. You want to know the truth, I’ll tell you. Felicity thinks I am not making practice fun and the kids are not having a good time and still not functioning as a unit.”

“Tell me about practice.”

“Okay.” And he did. He talked about stretching, running and chasing the ball. He told the man about forcing them to play and how they had pulled together to find the three lost teens, but they were still not working together to be a team.  

Riley listened and nodded then reaching he closed his laptop’s lid. “Teens get bored quickly and you do need to make the game fun, so Felicity has a valid point.”

“I’ve told her that and what’s worse is they still haven’t learned how to play together as a team. Not to mention that I still need a goalie. And with the first game of the season being next week, I don’t think it’s going to be pretty. No, I think they are going to lose and badly.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“Winning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And you and I both know you don’t always win in real life. So you just teach them to try their best and what happens is life, real life. But as to making practice more fun have you ever thought about having them play dodge ball?”

“Dodge ball?”

“Yeah, I always loved it as a kid and just think the last kid standing could be the best goalie. And then remember the way to a teenager’s heart is through his stomach. How about you try dodge ball tomorrow, and I’ll drop by with a bunch of pizza and some soda?”

“Riley, as much as I hate to admit it, you might be on to something.” His mind turned the possibilities over and over as he mentioned a time.

The man grinned broadly. “See you tomorrow at practice. I’ll bring the pizza and drinks and then I’ll see you in two days in the office ready to work.”

He nodded then he walked out the door, making his next appointment with the receptionist, while thinking about how practice would be different tomorrow, and he smiled as he reached for his phone and texted Felicity to see what she thought.

Seconds later his phone dinged and her picture lit his screen, he truly grinned as he headed toward the bike thinking that he kind of loved normal life even if it was hard.

But what about life wasn’t hard?

His thumbs moved to text her back and one thing he knew for sure, was his life with her was better than life had ever been without her and that made everything better no matter what.

######

Thanks for the read.

 

 


	46. Chapter 46

####OQ#####

Oliver checked his phone and glanced at the door for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes.

Ned, the probation officer, waved an empty bag at him. "He's late again. It's getting to be a habit. You need to talk to him."

"He's got to go to three schools to pick up three kids and most days he doesn't have a car. Give him a minute or two more." Lockers slammed behind him to the murmur of voices as the team got ready for practice.

"You're getting soft."

He turned his head ignoring Ned's statement as David hit the gym door hard and it crashed into the wall. The teen burst into the room, tripping over his own feet. Recovering, he didn't fall but his backpack slid across the floor coming to solid rest at Oliver's feet.

"Smooth move, David." Someone from the group teased.

"Klutz."

"Normal, David, a few fries short of a happy meal." Alonzo threw out.

"Bite me, Alonzo." The youth straightened and narrowed his eyes at the group.

Laughter followed and Oliver glared at the group. "That's enough, gentlemen. Time's ticking. Let's move it."

"Sorry, Coach, I know I'm late but I had to pick up the girls, and Max had a meltdown."

"You take them to the youth center? Where's your brother."

"Kyle had marching band practice and couldn't help." The thin young man looked both ways like he was crossing traffic. "And Max was majorly unhappy when I left. I had to peel him off me to leave."

"I guess that happens." He eyed David's hollow face. The young man had dropped weight and it showed.

"Seems to with Max. But he's barely three and still has the terrible twos in him. I wish he'd get over it. He wears me out."

"I wouldn't know. But I can tell he's attached to you." Jesus how did David handle all those kids every day?

"Too much most days." The youth jerked the backpack up from the floor and started patting pockets, frowning and Oliver knew.

"No phone?" He questioned knowing David probably didn't have any minutes anyway. But he didn't ask since it would embarrass the young man to admit he didn't have a working phone.

David bit his bottom lip and exhaled. "Sorry, Coach. I honestly forgot it today. I'll bring it tomorrow. I promise."

Ned snorted as he stood and stepped into the small office to lock the other cell phones up.

David reached and rubbed the buzzed hair at the top his head. "Coach, I . . ." His eyes darted toward the locker room vibrating with energy as the other young men finished getting ready for practice or sat on the bleachers waiting for practice to start and David hesitated.

Lowering his voice, the young man offered his bony large hand. "I need to say thanks, Coach. I never thought you'd pull off free babysitting for me, and I even have a little money left over at the end of the week. It's a welcome change."

He released David's hand. "I'm glad it's helping. Now move it and get dressed out. Today's going to be fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. I thought we'd change up practice a bit so move now."

"Okay, Coach. I'll hurry." David moved with a light step.

Placing his hands on his hips, he observed his team and his chest tightened.

Most of them had finished dressing out, while others sat on the benches waiting for practice to begin. The teens talked quietly, some of them laughed, joked and interacted, while others finished dressing, still others tying tennis shoes and banging locker doors. All and all, they as a group had come a long way.

Ned, returning from locking up the phones, walked up behind him, the scent of cigarettes, clinging to the man, alerting him to the man's presence long before he got there. "That young boy's changed. He and some of the others have warmed to you."

"Yeah, I've noticed. But don't let them hear that."

Ned barked a laugh and lowered his voice. "I hear that. But it still shocks the shit out me that you're making a difference for them, for David."

"I have my doubts some days too. But you're right. I'm seeing change." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched his team.

"Well, I know David's leveling out some. Becoming more in control of his temper than before. It's a good change considering his home life."

He lowered his voice. "I've heard some things about his dad."

"Probably most of them are true. I've noted bruises on the kid but like most of them, he won't talk about it. Kids tend to protect even abusive parents." The man leaned against the door jam and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Frankly, Oliver, I had my doubts about this soccer bull shit, but the change in several of these kids is good to see." Ned stuck out his chin. "They're staying out of trouble in school and their grades have improved."

"Glad to see you're concerned."

"I'm concerned that you're making my job easier."

Oliver glared at the man, who shrugged.

"What? If they get in less trouble then I have less paperwork."

Looking back at his team, his chest swelled. "Well maybe David and some of the others needed a little help to relieve stress. These kids have a lot on their plates for as young as they are, you know?"

"Yeah, and maybe having someone to watch his little brother and sisters for free a couple of hours during practice would take the edge off?"

"Eavesdrop much lately?"

Ned smiled a toothy grin. "Comes with the territory, and I've noted you've started feeding them too, since food and drink has appeared after practice."

Bending to hide the smile, he untied and retied his shoe lace before he stood. "More like disappears after practice. These young men can eat."

"Well all that food has to be costing some change."

"You're right. Felicity set up a Go Fund me account to pay for after care, new shoes and other supplies like water, Gatorade, power bars and fruit. And the money's just started coming in."

The tension radiated off Ned like a wave rolling onto the beach. He frowned before adding, "I know."

"You know?" He searched the man's face.

Ned nodded. "Yeah, I've follow your Facebook page, and I clicked your Go Fund me link, and don't let this get out but I donated."

"You donated? You?" Oliver locked his knees to stay upright. "In the past five weeks I've come to the conclusion that you hate these kids. You're as burnt out as a bombed building when it came these teens on a normal basis."

Ned dropped his chin before he raised his head and scanned the team. "Whatever. It's no big deal."

"Ned. I . . ."

"I get that you're surprised since, yeah, I'm jaded. But I've been paying attention lately. I've been case managing all of these kids for a while, and I'm paying attention. And I'm seeing things I didn't see before."

"You mean kids like David?"

"Yeah and Stan, Jordan, and Josh. Those three kids almost died in that cannery. I'd have never believed Janie could beat Josh like that if I hadn't seen the pictures. Jordan might still lose his legs. And I knew Phil drank but I miss that Phil's been busy drinking himself to death after his mom died of cancer and his dad checked out. I've done probation a long time, and I've heard it all, but now I wonder what else they're hiding?"

"I know." Oliver frowned.

"And all of these damn kids are hell on shoes, and David's too thin and needs to eat more." He shrugged. "So I donated. It's no big deal."

But it was, he thought, as the gruff man turned and walked back into the office.

And he couldn't stop the small smile because it was a very big deal.

Watching, he noted David had dressed out and pulled on his socks and reached for his shoes

Raising his voice, he faced the team. "I've got some announcements to make. Listen up."

Everyone froze and the room quieted.

"First off Stan and Josh have been released from the hospital and both have new casts and are doing well. I'm excusing both of them from practice for a week. And I want to thank you all of you for the way you turned out to support your team members. Your intel helped find them."

A hand went up.

He nodded.

"How's Jordan doing?"

"He's still critical and was back in surgery today to relieve the pressure on his legs."

Another hand shot up and he nodded.

"Is it true they're going to take both of his legs?"

He shut his eyes for an instant and formed the best answer. Jordan's body was failing. Even in a medically induced coma,  he wasn't doing well. His kidneys were failing even with the dialysis. The doctors were not making any predictions and the words, "The doctors are doing everything they can to save his legs," came out.

Silence answered him.

"Okay." He clapped his hands. "All eyes on me. I want everyone to assemble in the gym today."

The boys fell silent and they looked at each other, expressions grim.

A pin dropping would have been loud as he eyed each and every one of them.

And most of them wouldn't look him straight in the eye. No, they looked at each other, and he wondered what they'd done lately or what they were planning to do soon since they looked guilty.

"Let's go. Move out." He waved and they stood.

Shuffling along as an unit, they moved out the locker room doors, and he followed them where he could watch them. As a group they'd come a long way, and he had no trouble getting them to the gym, if anything they were subdued.

When they reached the gym, he stopped them after them entered and walked in front of them.

"Listen up. I'm going to pick teams. I hate when people choose teams by popularity, choosing their friends first and not by people's real skills. Remember that in the future, fill your team and your co-workers with people who are skilled in their fields, not because you like them."

"Like I'm going to have co-worker someday." A voice spouted off.

"Yeah, like I'm ever going to be a boss."

"Whatever."

"You're dreaming."

"Not going to happen."

Others agreed.

He clapped his hands. "Gentlemen, eyes on me. Listen up. Any of you could be a boss someday. All of you are smart. That's why you're here. Only the smart ones made my team. Believe me, I don't do dumb."

And total silence filled the room, since he'd shocked them, completely.

Their blank faces told him they didn't believe him. But who could blame them. They were the screw ups, the trouble makers and the lost ones. No one believed in them, probably not even their parents.

He pointed to the bleachers. "SIT."

Waiting for them to sit, he explained. "Today, we're going to play for fun."

The silence deafened him.

"Now first row take your shirts off and you've on that side of the gym." He pointed to the left. "And your," he waved at the other group, "On the right. Move!"

The teens started stripping shirts and moving to the separate ends of the gym.

#####OQ#####

Adrian sat there like he'd frozen to the spot. What the fuck was he going to do?

"We're going to play skins against shirts." Coach said.

The blood drained from his face.

Shit, he couldn't take his shirt off. If he took his shirt off, he'd be busted since he'd used his favorite razor blade repeatedly on his stomach in the restroom after lunch.

He deserved the pain, and besides, the pain helped, made him feel better and enabled him to cope with his day.

Stupid, he was stupid. He'd seriously flunked his pre-algebra test.

He was sure of it.

Damn, he'd gotten confused in the middle. How could he be so irresponsible? He'd studied for the test and knew the shit cold, but he'd been stupid and gotten high behind the gym before the test and couldn't get his brain to think.

He'd felt better after getting high but his brain didn't want to do math high.

Why had he gotten high? He knew what that shit did to him. He'd shot his own foot.

How dumb could he be?

God, he was stupid, a fucking fool, and he remembered how his hands had shaken as he'd unwrapped the thin razor blade from the dollar bill he hid in his wallet. The razor cut through paper too quickly, and if he changed out the dollar bill out it lasted almost a week.

Taking a deep breath, he'd savagely pressed the razor hard into his belly, scoring his already mutilated flesh and he suppressed his groan.

Immediate relief had flooded him like a river, as the blade opened up his scarred, aching flesh and his blood flowed bright red, running like a crimson river, down his belly, relieving him with the pain.

The pain filled him and felt almost as good as him jacking off, and his dick slightly hardened. His eyes shut as he savored the pain like a junkie.

God help him, he was a pain junkie. It felt like a caress as he cut deeper.

He needed it, craved the pain, and Jesus, help him, he'd cut long enough, that he couldn't wait for the pain.

Sometimes, he'd wished someone would notice the smell of blood on him, that someone would STOP HIM. Why didn't someone ask why he smelled like blood all the time?

He always smelled like blood and his clothes all had blood stains. But no one noticed the stains, and his mom was too busy trying to impress whatever boyfriend was fucking her this week to notice him. And Gram, who would have noticed, had died over three years.

Yeah, he was invisible. No one asked and no one stopped him. And he never gave the wounds time to heal before he cut again. He couldn't help it.

It was hard to admit, but he needed the pain now.

Breathing though his discomfort, he'd pressed the razor deeper into his skin, before he jerked the blade away from his bleeding flesh, gasping, his breathe ragged.

Smacking the TP roll, repeatedly, with his hand, he'd wadded up a mass of TP, pressing it against his wound to slow the flow.

The TP had turned bright red as the warning bell rang and he'd stood and flushed the toilet for cover, just in case anyone was still in the bathroom.

Unlocking the stall door, he waved his hand at the paper towel dispenser and ripped off several brown paper towels, while, he glanced at the door.

Don't let anyone come in, he'd prayed.

Carefully , with no wasted motion, he'd folded the rough paper towel into a makeshift bandage and pressed it against his bleeding wound. Holding the towel with one hand, he'd unzipped his backpack, removing the medical tape he'd stolen from the nurse's office. Taping the paper towel to his stomach, he winced as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and he went to class bleeding.

"Adrian, listen to me."

Shit, Coach snapped his fingers in his face, alerting him, waking him up.

Heart racing, he stood on the verge of getting busted. And he knew it. If he took his shirt off Coach would see the fresh cuts.

"Answer me, Adrian."

"I'm here, sorry, Coach."

"Wake up and take off your shirt. You're on the Skin's team."

He froze, met Coach's eyes and shook his head as he held up his hand. "Not feeling it, Coach. I need to change teams. I can't take my shirt off. I just can't."

Coach looked hard it him. "Okay, Adrian, you're shirts now."

He exhaled the breath, he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, and nodded his head, moving to stand with the team that hadn't taken their shirts off.

Practice was unreal.

Coach had decided they were going to play a strange type of dodge ball. He'd set up two soccer goals and three bowling pins that as a team they protected. To win the game you had to knock down all three pins.

They had to follow soccer rules, which meant no hands unless you were in the half circle by the pins then you could use your hands to catch the ball and throw it back onto play. It a strange game but yet, it was fun.

The entire team ran and kicked and played, and they fell into a rhythm trying to protect the pins and knock the other pins down. Alonzo turned out to be great with his hands and his side won because the tall solid teen could catch a soccer ball and forcefully sling it back to the other side.

And unexpectedly, his counselor's husband, the guy with no legs, the guy who was also a shrink, had showed up at the end of practice with boxes and boxes of mouthwatering pizza and cold bottled water in tow.

Starving, he and the rest of them had fallen on the pizza and water like a pack of wolves, devouring it all before heading for the showers.

He drug behind the rest, going to the bathroom to check on his bandage.

Crap he'd bled on his uniform. The bandage needed changed but there wasn't much he could do about it until later. Changing in the stall, he wadded up his shirt and threw his clothes in the laundry with a prayer the blood came out in the wash.

Almost home free, he changed his shoes out to his other pair of tennis shoes, the one's with a hole in his right shoe, and quietly shut his locker. Slinging the backpack on his shoulder, he grimaced as the pain shot white hot through his gut.

He had his hand on the door when Coach walked up behind him and he jumped as the man's gruff voice said, "Adrian, I want to talk to you in the office."

"I have some stuff to do, Coach."

"Now, Adrian."

His feet drug as he pressed his lips together and entered Coach's tiny office.

"You wanted to see me?" Jesus, his heart pounded a mile a minute.

Coach looked him up and down and didn't shut the door. "Yeah, don't take this the wrong way but I want you to take your shirt off."

His heart raced as his mind scrambled. "Look, I'm shy. And I'm not that kind of guy, Coach."

Coach leaned out the door and yelled, "Ned, I need you a minute, and is Riley still around?" Turning he said, "You can wait to take your shirt off until Ned and Riley get here. I want witnesses."

Heat filled his face. "You can't make me, Coach. I won't do it."

"I can't but your probation officer can."

"No, this has to be a violation of my civil rights." His voice rose.

"Hardly. Look, the truth is I smell blood on you, fresh blood."

He looked at his tennis shoes, at the spot on the side busting out because he had fucking wide feet and killed every pair of shoes he wore and always had. His mom bitched about it all the time. What the fuck was he going to do? He was caught. Would they arrest him? Was cutting yourself again the law?

Would he have to go back in front of the judge?

He couldn't do it.

His heart pounded and a headache appeared between his eyes, while his stomach sickened.

"I'd thought I smelled blood on you before today, but now I'm sure you've got a fresh wound. I want to see your chest."

"I . . . I . . . can't show you. I . . ." The words refused to come out. His palms poured sweat, and he wiped them on his nylon black shorts.

Walker stuck his head in and the shrink stood right behind him on his fake legs.

How did that work? How did the man walk on those legs?

"Adrian, I want you to take your shirt off."

Jesus, he was busted. He had to get out of here. The room shrunk, became small and dark spots appeared before his eyes. He stood and his legs failed him.

"Catch him he's falling out."

"Well shit." His coach cursed.

"FUCK. He's going down." Walker, his probation officer added.

His knees buckled and it was all she wrote, he collapsed and his brain checked out.

###OQ####

As always thanks for the read! And I have a lot of stories left to tell, and I look forward to any reviews.


	47. Chapter 47

__

Oliver moved as Adrian crumbled, catching the beefy young man under his arms before he cracked his skull on the floor.

Ned poked his head in the door. "What the hell? One minute he's up and talking and then he's down for the count."

"I'd say he fainted." He added, "Move you two, this office's too small to lay him down."

"No shit, you think?" But Ned stepped backward, running into Riley, nearly knocking the man down. "Sorry."

"Not a problem. I'm steadier than you would think. He's big to be under eighteen . You need help?"

"Sure grab an arm, he must weigh well over 250."

Riley moved and together they drug him out into the locker room and gently lowered him to the floor.

"Just what did you say to him set him off?" Riley got a towel from the stack and wet it in the sink.

"I asked him to take his shirt off, and he panicked and went down."

"Why would you do that?"

He met the man's green eyes. "Because I've noted more than once he smells like flesh blood, and he's refused to take his shirt off twice today. And both times he looked panicked. Kid's clearly hiding something."

Ned pulled his phone out. "Fresh blood? I thought you said he fainted. You want me to call 911?"

Shaking his head, he frowned, looking at the fallen teen. "Let's give him a minute. Most people that faint don't stay out very long."

"I'm not going to asked how you know that." Riley handed him the wet towel.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Riley shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. I'm a shrink not a medical doctor. It's something to do. Put it on his forehead or something."

"You sure you don't want me to call 911?" Ned's thumb posed, ready to dial.

"NO." He shook his head. "I've got enough of my team in the hospital already. And I don't believe he's in danger. But what I want to know is why he doesn't want to take his shirt off. What's he hiding?"

Reaching, he started to lift Adrian's green t-shirt and Riley said, "Wait, can you legally do that? The boy's unconscious, and he's verbally told you no. I'm thinking this is a bad idea. Ned, what do you think?"

The man frowned hard. "Hmm, not sure that one's ever come up before. Maybe we should call 911 and let the medical people look instead of us."

"I'm not waiting. I'm looking."

"Are you sure?" Riley glared at him.

"Yeah, I am. He's on my team. I'm his coach, and I'm concerned he has an injury. And if I'm wrong he'll never know."

Riley frowned but nodded. "Okay, coach and team player, check, possible injury, check, you have witnesses."

"Riley!"

"Can't help it. Just the thought of my malpractice insurance premiums going up make me nervous."

Ned jumped in. "Get over it. Okay, makes sense to me and if there's nothing to see then there's no harm no foul. So, I say we look. Pull his shirt up, Oliver."

Carefully, he lifted Adrian's shirt and took in a blood soaked brown paper towel taped to the kid's stomach.

He'd known he'd smelled fresh blood.

What had he been thinking? He detested the smell of fresh blood.

His own blood pounded in his ears. The past came screaming back.

To the small cage.

The smell of blood filled his brain.

Trapped in that cage made it hard to breathe.

"Shit. Blood. It's a trigger. Do you hear me?"

A weight the size of Texas landed solidly on his chest, and he struggled to breathe. He tried to focus on staying on "HERE."

"Don't flash." Something wet hit his hands, and he slung it away from him.

And Adrian had countless scars covering his stomach. Everywhere he looked he saw scars.

More scars than even he had.

The damn cage. The fresh blood.

"What the hell?"

The words were fuzzy, his vision going blurry, dark, and the wet hit him in the face this time. He ripped it away from his face and jumped to his feet with a roar.

"Stay away from him, Ned. I don't know what he'll do. Oliver, feel the wet towel? Look around. You're in the locker room. Look at me."

Riley snapped his fingers in his face, and he focused, drug himself back. He couldn't do this now.

"Focus on feeling your feet. Feel the solid floor, your shoes."

"Stop, I'm okay. Yeah. I'm okay." The room came back into focus, and he scrubbed his face with the wet towel before throwing it in the dirty laundry basket.

"What the hell just happened?" Ned eyed him.

"Yeah, Oliver, what just happened? Care to own that? I'd love to see it."

"Kiss off, Riley."

To which the man snickered, while pulling out his phone.

"Ned, I'm fine. Just lost it over the sight of blood." A lame excuse but he'd never been good at lying.

"If you say so." Ned whistled and shook his head. "Great, he's a damn cutter. Sharon's going to freak out."

"Sharon?" He eyed the countless marks.

Riley pulled up a folding chair over and lowered his large body into it and began tapping out a text on his phone. Nodding at him, he added, "His mother. I'm calling Anna for an intervention. And Ned, you need to contract his mother."

"Won't that be fun. She's hasn't liked me since I put gum in her hair in grade school, and I've have the plague ever since I've come home. She won't even come to Adrian's conferences." The man stomped off toward the offices again.

"Jesus, damn small towns." Riley shook his head. "Looking at his stomach, he been doing this a long time, and he's been cutting his back too. God, he's got a lot of scarring."

He nodded. "He did all that to himself?" His mind had a problems wrapping around this teen doing this much abuse to his body.

"Yeah, he must cut pretty much every day from all the marks. Damn, I've never seen one this bad but then I deal with grown men, who normally have someone who notices the blood on the towels or clothes so the abuse comes to a stop pretty quickly."

He walked over to the ice machine and got a cup of ice. Throwing a piece of ice in his mouth, he sucked on it before he walked back to look at the countless scars on the teen's stomach. Still his stomach dropped and old memories wanted to surface. He crunched the ice, swallowed hard and cleared his throat as Riley's phone dinged.

"Anna?"

"Yeah. Felicity's with her. They're on their way."

He crunched more ice, his eyes glued to Adrian's scars, while his mind raced. "I knew I smelled blood weeks ago. I should have acted on my instincts. Ned," he hollered, "bring me the first aid kit. I need to redress his wound."

"On it." The man yelled from the office.

"You called him a cutter?"

Riley's phone dinged and he tapped out another message. "Yeah, his wounds are self-inflected."

"He did this to himself? Cut himself? Hurt himself?" He had problems wrapping his head around Adrian cutting himself.

The kid had hurt himself on purpose.

Why?

Poor kid had to be in pain. And not only physical pain but emotional pain.

Pain, he understood.

Heavens knew he'd seen enough pain in his life, and he'd never cut himself, but he'd done other things. 

He shut that thought down.

The man kept texting as Riley added, "Yeah, and cutting's becoming a real epidemic in the teenage world because when one cuts, others follow suit. It's a you cut, so I'll cut too. I'll prove I can cut, slice, bleed, better than you."

He filled his mouth with more ice and chewed.

"It's a teenage pissing contest. A one up kind of thing, though clearly, Adrian's serious about his cutting since he's hid it for probably years."

Slinging another piece of ice in his mouth, he insisted, "Why hasn't someone figured it out? He smells like blood all the time."

"Guess not everyone knows what blood smells like, and teens are crafty. They wear long sleeves; they hide in plain sight. Though, normally, they want to get caught, so they show someone the marks. And trust me, since he hid the marks, he's ashamed, which by the way makes it worse."

"Worse?" He crunched another mouthful of ice.

"Yeah, and he's done it long enough, he's addicted to it. He won't want to stop."

"You mean this is his thing?" He carefully pulled the makeshift bandage off and stood and moved, dropping the bloody mess in the trash.

Returning, he eyed the angry wound. "Well at least this cut isn't too deep but this one here's on the verge of being infected."

He pulled out his phone and took a picture and forwarded it to Felicity.

"Busted, Adrian. He's CUTTING?! Warning gross pic attached. Show Anna." And he pressed the send button.

Riley used his phone to text. "Not surprising, cutters don't always keep thier wounds clean either."

"Do we have to call the cops on him?"

Ned returned with the first aid kit and words, "No, I've left several messages for his mom, hopefully, though I doubt it, she's on her way. But from the looks of his stomach he's not cutting to die, only to hurt."

Riley added. "Believe it or not, most of them aren't suicidal."

"Good to know." He ate more ice. Jesus, he hated the scent of fresh blood anymore.

"Yeah, but cutters are depressed, have low self-esteem or body image and don't have positive coping skills when it comes to stress. Instead, some say they feel numb, so they cut to feel, and the pain helps them cope."

"Great. But, I don't see this as coping." He pointed to Adrian's scars, but he remembered he'd hurt himself repeatedly in the past, in an effort to cope with his rage and helplessness. Pushing those thoughts away, he moved to take the first aid kit from Ned's hands, grateful to have something to do.

"It's not a good way to cope, but now that you've caught him he has a chance to change."

"I'm just surprised to see a boy cutting," Ned crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Cutting's more of a girl thing."

"Sexist much, Ned?"

"No, I mean it. Cutting's more a girl thing according to the trainings I've attended."

Riley frowned and waved his hand. "Jesus, you're sexist. Those days are long gone, just because on average more teenage girls cut than teenage boys, it doesn't mean boys don't cut too."

"Great an equal opportunity cutting problem people train for. Something else I'll never understand." He looked at the teen's scarred body.

"Don't joke. This is a real problem."

"I get it isn't funny but I'm struggling with processing here."

"Anna knows now, and she'll help him learn other coping strategies."

The boy on the floor groaned. "Fuck, what happened?"

Adrian's eyes snapped open, and panic raced across the boy's brown eyes, as he stuttered, "Sorry, Coach, I . . I'm dizzy. Did I pass out? I didn't mean to make trouble. I . . ."

He pressed against the boy's shoulder.

"You fainted. Lie still, for a minute. Could have happened to the best of us. You need to stay calm and breathe."

"I'm trying."

"Look, it's no big deal and none of us are holding this against you."

The young man's eyes went wild, as he realized his shirt exposed his stomach. "Coach, I . . I . . ."

"Don't bother thinking up a lie because, yeah, we've seen that you're cutting. Your stomach's a royal mess, Adrian."

"You had no right to look. It's my body."

"You're on my team, and I'm your coach, which gives me the right."

"But . . . but."

"You looking to run laps tomorrow?"

"No!"

"No, what?"

"No, Coach, I don't want to run laps."

"That's better. Then I suggest you lie there and take it easy, until you feel like getting up and let me clean and dress your wounds." He rattled the first aid kit.

"I've always got some early morning trash detail if you're interested." Ned threw in.

"No, sir, I'll pass but I'm ready to get up. Can I get up now, Coach?"

Dropping to his knees, he opened the first aid box and ripped open some white gauze and handed it to Adrian. "Here, your wound's bleeding. Put some pressure on it and then get up slow."

The boy scrubbed his red face with both hands, then took the gauze and pressed it to his stomach. He groaned as he sat up. But the youth didn't attempt to stand.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his face hardened, as he hugged his knees. "I'm in trouble, huh? Going back to juvie?"

Ned moved closer. "Right now, we're going to play this by ear, Adrian. You're doing well in school and attending soccer practice. I've also called your mom and left a message."

He buried his head in his knees. "Great, just fantastic, Mom'll be totally pissed off, I mean mad, I've inconvenienced her today."

Ned nodded. "Ah, that's your mom. And I'll bet she'll want me to revoke your probation and lock you back up. And I'd lay money she's not coming to pick you up, either."

"Ned!" Oliver and Riley both said at once.

He noted the kid's shoulders slumped even more. "You're not helping here."

"What?" He held out his hands, as he shrugged. "I've known her my entire life. She's not the loving mom type. She's a real."

"NED!" Riley cut him off. "Adrian, your mom might not be coming, but your counselor, Ms. Anna, is on her way." Riley held his phone up. "Felicity's with her, by the way."

"Then I'd better get your wound tended. Ms. Felicity's not a great fan of blood."

The teen's face a harsh mask, he stood, pressing on his stomach. "I can do it if you'll give me the stuff. I know how." He held out his hand.

"Yeah, it looks like you've had plenty of practice. But humor me and head over to that table and lie down."

Pain showed in the youth's hard face, as Adrian moved like a ninety-year-old across the room, holding his stomach. He wanted to help but he refrained as the teen took forever to get up on the table, while his own painful memories flooded back.

Ned's phone rang and he answered it and walked away.

Finally prone on the table, Adrian covered his eyes with his arm, and he wondered if the teen wanted to disappear. He knew he'd wished to disappear more than once.

"Pull your shirt up." He steadied himself to not let the smell of blood bother him as he pulled out the wound care spray. "This might sting. Brace."

"Only if I'm lucky." Adrian inhaled sharply as he sprayed.

"Tough guy, huh?" Yet, the boy flinched as he cleaned his wounds. "How old is this one?"

"Couple of weeks."

"Looks like it's getting infected."

"Coach, you don't have to do this. I'll take care of it. I always take care of it."

Oliver hesitated for an instant seeing himself in the youth. He had hurt himself repeatedly, and he always took care of it, well until Felicity started taking care of him.

"Look, Coach, this is no big deal."

"That's where you're wrong, since you only get one body, and you're using it up before you even get old,which makes it a big deal."

Uncovering his eyes, the teen glared at him. "It's my body, Coach."

How did he argue that? He wanted to order him not to cut again, to insist that he'd be checking to see if the boy cut, but he needed to talk to Riley or Anna first and maybe both.

"Well you're on my team, which makes it my business, and what about your family? Do they know you do this?" He had problems getting the words out but he pressed on. "Do they know you cut yourself?"

The young man turned his head away from him. "I don't have any family, my sister left years ago, and Mom only cares about Mom. Everyone knows that. And Gram died three years ago."

"You could be wrong."

"Doubt it."

He smeared some antibiotic salve on the cuts and peeled off a large bandage and pressed in to the teen's stomach. "That does it. Do you want to sit up?"

"Yeah, Coach." The youth sat up and the boy's face instantly reddened then he turned white as sweat popped out on his brow. "Is it hot in here? I don't feel so good."

Snatching up a trash can, he thrust it at Adrian just before he puked pizza violently.

When the kid finished, he took the trash can from him and tied the bag up. "Feel better? Let's lie you down again." Adrian didn't fight him and curled on his side holding his stomach.

Riley appeared beside him with another trashcan and the words, "Just in case."

"Yeah."

The bang of a door alerted him to Anna and Felicity's arrival.

#####OQ#####

He'd laid there curled in a ball and listened as Coach's fiancé and Ms. Anna entered the locker room.

All of them has a unplanned meeting, and he'd laid there motionless and fighting vomiting the entire time until Coach walked over. "Ms Anna wants to see you."

"Okay, I can do that." He rolled over and forced himself to stand and follow Coach into his tiny office.

Ms. Anna sat behind Coach's desk, and she smiled at him and his face heated.

How could she smile at him when she knew what he had done, what he had been doing for years now?

"Oliver, thanks, I'll need your office for a little while."

"Sure."

"Come on in, Adrian."

He swallowed hard but entered the room.

"Sit down."

Dropping into the other chair in the small room, he stared at his shoes, glad his stomach had decided to calm down.

Damn big feet, always getting in the way, always tripping and making him fall, he heard his mom's words.

He hated his body, his big, ugly body.

His hands fisted, he waited for her to tell him how disappointed she was in him, how he was a lost cause, and they needed to lock him up in a nut house or Juvie.

Trash, that would be what she'd thought for sure, and she'd take out the trash, which equaled "him."

Well, he truly was a lost cause, and he knew it.

Yeah, he had problems processing as she looked him straight in the eye, with the words, "Adrian, I want you to know there are other ways to deal with your feelings other than cutting your body."

"Cutting's no big deal." He swallowed hard.

"Well you're wrong, it's a big deal to me and to Coach Queen. You can't keep hurting yourself, and if you do you can't be on Coach's team. He won't put up with it."

"Yeah, okay, I know what I'm doing's wrong."

Best for him to agree with her since that'd get this over quicker.

Yeah, he needed to get high and probably drunk enough he'd black out and forget this shit ever happened.

It'd be hard to get the liquor, but he had a couple of pills. His mind worried the idea of eating those two hydros he had hidden in his sock drawer, but he'd rather have some 512's, called that because of the number printed on the generic brand of Percocets' pills.

Jesus, where could he get some liquor?

He'd have to make a trip into the hood tonight unless he could hook up with his dealer.

"You're right it is. You only get one body, and you need it last a long time. Adrian, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were hurting yourself. I should have caught it, should have realized you were covering up. But . . ."

"You're going to send me away aren't you?" Again, he stared at his torn up shoes. "It's okay, I understand. No big deal. Do it and get it over with. I deserve it."

"No, you don't understand. Adrian, look at me. Here look here."

Lifting his head, he looked at Ms. Anna brown eyes.

"There you are." She pointed with her fingers. "That's it, eyes up here. First off, I'm NEVER going to send you away. I have no reason. I don't believe you're suicidal. Are you suicidal?"

"NO."

"Didn't think so. So, together, you and I and your coach, we're going to help you get through this. I care about you and you're worth a lot, Adrian. Believe me, you're worth it."

He blinked a couple of times trying to process her words.

"Now, I know when you cut it helps you feel better inside, but there are other ways to feel better, and I want to help you to figure out those ways. First can you tell me what you use to cut? If it's too personal then we'll move on."

"I . . . I . . ."

"A knife? A razor."

He nodded.

"Which one?"

"Razor." It felt strange to tell her that secret.

She exhaled and picked up her pen and tapped in on the desk. "Do you cut every day?"

Looking at a spot on the wall above her head, he gave a sharp nod.

"Do you think you could try to stop?"

"I don't know."

"Can you try if I give you something to help you?"

"Drugs?"

"Don't get your hopes up." She reached into her pocket and removed two thick rubber bands and held them out to him. "Take them."

"And what am I supposed to do with these?"

"Put them on your wrists and when you want to cut, pop them hard."

"Won't that hurt?"

"Yeah, it will hurt, but it's pain without bleeding or scars, so feel free to pop them as often as you need to."

He couldn't suppress his small grin.

"And if you still feel the urge to cut," she reached in her pocket and pulled out a nice silver pen and handed it to him.

The pen lay heavy and solid in his hand, and he rolled it between his fingers as she added, "I want you to draw on yourself or use a piece of ice to draw on your stomach. And," she handed him a brand new green notebook, "I want you to use the pen to write down your feelings, your thoughts, hopes and dreams, your demons too."

He dropped the pen on the desk like it'd burned him, and he sliced the air with his hand. "I don't write. It's not my thing. Not happening."

Spelling and him were not even close to best friends. He couldn't write without spell check, and even then, he struggled and had to use Google to help him spell. Regardless, he'd never be a writer.

She smiled at him, a tiny smile, with a nod that told him he'd disappointed her.

"Come on, please, try. If not for you then because I ask you to."

"Whatever." He waved his hand at her.

"Not whatever. Why."

"WHY?"

"Yeah. If you're angry write down WHY. If you sad or lonely, explain IT."

"I don't know if I can."

"You CAN. Think of it like texting."

"Texting?"

"Yeah. You don't have to spell the words out or spell them right, but you can scream about it on paper. Do what you have to do but spit the poison out."

"Poison? I don't have poison."

"Oh, yes, you do. Pure poison's living inside of you. But you have the strength to get through this." She caught his eyes. "I believe you can do this, that you can give cutting up. I know it'll be hard to stop but you can do it. I have faith in you."

He returned to looking at his busted out shoe and fought the urge to smile.

Jesus, she had faith in him.

Yet, he got it.

Knew it for the truth.

She'd pull him in, suckered him like a fool, set the damn hook in his mouth and like a stupid fish, she'd reel him in.

He couldn't allow this to go on.

Swallowing hard, his tone bitter, he added, "Right, whatever. And I bet you want to read it. Analyze me and shit. You know. Poor stupid cutter and all. Maybe you could write a paper and get published."

"Language and no, I don't want to read it. And you're not stupid. Talk about smart. You blow your test scores off the charts. You may play dumb but you're not. And heck, burn what you write if you want but get the poison out. Draw, write poems, or write stories, anything to get the poison out. But don't cut. Your body doesn't deserve to be cut."

"You don't want to read it?" Confused, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, what your angle?"

"Helping you get out poison that's choking you and destroying you that's my angle."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it. I'll only read what you wrote if you want me to since I understand a person's writing's personal and it's hard to share. There's nothing more scary than having people read what you write."

"I'm not going to write." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stuck out his chin.

"Okay, then don't but take it with you and if none of these things work and you still want to cut yourself, then I want you to run laps until you can't run anymore."

"Run?"

"Yeah, until your legs hurt."

"And what's that going to do?"

"You'll find pain without cutting yourself and running will help you play better soccer; remember your first game is next week."

"Are you serious?"

"I am since I'd like to see your team having fun playing soccer."

He looked hard at her. "You're coming to the first game?"

"Yes. I've been looking forward to it."

"Why would you bother?"

"Adrian, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Well, we aren't very good." He blurted out, and started to sweat just thinking about her going to be at his soccer game. "We're going to get our ass, ah, butts kicked."

"That's okay. Language remember?" Her smile gentle, he listened to her lie, to tell him what she thought he wanted to hear, while he fantasied about Ms. Anna being his real mom.

Sometimes he lied to himself. He imaged Ms. Anna as his mom, and she loved him and gave a shit about him.

"Adrian, the game's about having fun, playing a sport, it's not all about winning."

He ruthlessly killed the fantasy in his head.

Don't forget you're a paycheck, nothing more, he cautioned himself. He sneered the words, "Yeah, you adults say that but news flash, it's all about winning, and we're going to lose."

"Okay, I know it seems like that sometimes, but I'm not like that. We've worked together long enough for you to know that."

"Jesus, would stop acting like you care about me. You're a court ordered counselor. The only reason you're here at all is you're getting paid."

He hated that he'd knocked her smile off her face, but he drove the point home. "Now that you know what I am, what I do. I bet you want to see."

"That's not necessary." She looked at the floor but he pushed.

"Yes it is necessary. I want you to see."

The blood roared in his ears.

On light speed the entire day ran through his mind.

He watched as he stumbled out of a messy bed, Mom MIA, normally NOT home, again. He didn't want to think about who's bed she's slept in.

The pictures spun faster.

Him throwing on regularly, normal blood stained clothes, him getting high before class, him flunking his test, him cutting himself in the bathroom, bleeding, tending his wound, him attending practice, a surprisingly fun practice, and then Coach busting him out, with him fainting for god's sake in front of Coach, his probation officer and Ms. Anna's husband, and now killing off any warmness Ms. Anna felt for him ending his day.

Why not? He'd burnt the entire day down, why not go out in a blaze of glory?

"No, I want you to see."

He didn't want anyone to see but he couldn't stop.

Standing, he towered over her, his hands reaching and ripping his t-shirt off. "This is what I am. This is the real me. And I'm royally fucked up."

He could tell he'd shocked her since she didn't say the word "language."

She gasped loudly, and he drove his point home. "I like razor blades the best. Sharp ones are my favorite, but I've done a lot of knives, broken glass, metal can lids, safety pins and needles."

He pointed to the scarring on his chest and arms, and turned showing her the marks on his back. "I've cut for years, and no one, not even you, caught me or stopped me or cared about stopping me, and if damn Coach hadn't figured it out, we wouldn't be having this stupid conversation right now."

She paled and her mouth fell open.

But she recovered quickly. "Okay, you wanted to shock me, well good job, Adrian. And I get what you're doing here, and it's not going to work. I'm not throwing you away because you've cut yourself, but I do apologize that I didn't realize you were self-harming. I should have figured it out, but then you're an expert on hiding it, aren't you?

He ducked his head.

"Does your mom know? Your friends?"

He respected her as he froze, then slowly shook his head.

"Thought not. Now, I want you to sit back down and put your shirt back on. I get your point. You know how to hurt yourself and me and everyone else missed what you were doing. Now you get mine."

He looked in her eyes and she nodded.

"You're right; it's my job to talk to you. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you as a person. And yeah, I'm going to help you figure out how to stop cutting. It's bad for you. Hard on your body. So, together we're going to find a way to make you find better ways to cope."

He jerked his shirt back on, managing to wrench his wound, as a wave of pain ripped through him, making his words harsh. "I don't believe you, and I don't want to stop. I like it. Hell, I get the fuck off on it."

"Language. And it doesn't matter if you believe me or not, I care about you, and you're lying about not wanting to stop self-harming. I think you wanted to get caught self-harming and . . ."

"CUTTING. I CUT. Damn it, call it what it is." He hissed the words at her. "And I don't want to see you anyone. I want a different counselor. You're fired."

"Adrian, language!"

Her tone sharp, she gave no ground.

"And surprise, you can't fire me, since you didn't hire me. I'm court appointed, and unless your mom wants to drive you to an out of town counselor to fulfill your counseling requirement, I'm it for this small town."

All he could think about was being totally fucked.

His mom wouldn't drive him to school, no way she'd be willing to drive him fifty minutes to a larger city, once a week.

He collapsed back in his chair as Ms. Anna added, "So, it's me for the next six months or you can go down to juvie for at least the next year."

"I only have six months left on my probation."

"If you go to juvie, it's probable that you could not be released until you're nineteen, especially if no one on the outside's pushing for your release."

He heard what she wasn't saying. "Your whoring mom likes her boyfriend's way more than you, and she's going to let you rot. She won't even bother to come and visit."

"But that's almost two years." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and swallowed.

"Yeah, it is, and your only other choice is lockdown in a mental institution for a full evaluation. And trust me, cutters get strip searched daily to check for new marks."

"If they'll give me drugs, lock me up. I don't care. It doesn't matter anyway." His body felt numb.

Such a shit day and he still had to deal with mom. He dropped his head in his hands, and he wanted to pull on his hair.

"Look at me, Adrian. Come on, look at me."

He lifted his head from his hands and took in her serious face as she waved a finger at him. "No way do you get to do that. Not after today's break through."

"How is this," he pointed to chest, "a break through? I'm a cutter." He wanted to scream, "I'm worthless." Why would she care but instead he pressed hard against the wound on his stomach, and the pain helped remind him he deserved this.

"You've been seeing me for over six months and you've never once raised your voice to me, never shown any emotion at all. It's been, Adrian, tell me about your week and you've given me lip service, bla, bla, bla. Today I got to see the real you for the first time. Nice to finally meet you, Adrian."

He ducked his head again.

"Now, you and me are standing at a crossroads. We don't lie to each other, right? That was in our agreement. No lies."

"I haven't lied to you."

"No, what you've done is withheld information. You're smart enough to know that's lying by omission."

Again, he stared at his shoes, his shoulders bowed as he wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself.

"Look at me."

He raised his head.

She looked at him seriously and held up two fingers. "Now comes the hard part. I want you to commit to not cutting for the next two days."

The blood pounded in his ears, and he rubbed the back of his neck, while ducking his head.

"You can do this."

She stood and gave him a nod. "I'll see you in two days. Can you commit to not cutting for two days?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Can you try? I want you to try. Forty-eight hours! You can do that easy, can't you? You can call me if you need to cut. Any time, if you need me, call. I'm there for you. I'll talk to you. Just don't cut. Snap the rubber bands, write on yourself, use ice, write in your journal or run. Those are your options. Will you try?"

"I can try." He stood and she extended her hand.

"Shake on it? I trust your word."

"Why would you. I'm nothing."

Jesus, he need to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Because I trust you. And you're something. You're a good person, Adrian. The very best."

"I'm not." Again he looked at his falling apart shoes.

"You are. Listen, I believe in you and so does your coach. He said you can call him too if you need him. Now, you've got this, and your coach and I are going to help you through this hard time. Together, we'll get through this. Look at me."

He looked and she nodded. "Okay? You're going to be okay. I want you to shake on it, to commit."

"I could be lying."

"Not to me, you're better than that. You're a man of honor." She held out her hand and he inhaled sharply.

"I'll try." He reached and shook her hand as his heart thudded hard in his chest.

"That's all I ask."

Forty-eight hours loomed like a lifetime in front of him, a fucking life time without cutting, but he'd do his best and try because Ms. Anna believed he could do it and so did Coach.

Heaven help him, since someone needed to, and he pressed on his bandage, savoring the sweet pain one last time.

#####OQ#####

 


	48. Chapter 48

#####OQ#####

"You okay?" Felicity reached and touched his arm, glad when he gave a sharp nod. "I heard you had a slight problem." She touched his chest and felt the strong beat of his heart and wished they were alone so she could wrap her body around him. Every time he flashed now, she feared his blood pressure would spike, and he'd land back in the hospital or even worse in the morgue.

"I'm fi . . , good, Felicity."

"And learning."

"Yeah." He half grinned at her, and she smiled back.

"Awesome. Did you flash?" She looked deep into his sky blue eyes, her hands roaming his hard chest.

"No, I chewed ice."

"You did?" Her hand dipped lower down his chest.

"I did. Now, can we talk about this later?"

"Of course, when do you ever want to talk about your PTSD?"

Riley broke in. "But, you admitting the event even happened is a step forward for you. And yeah, you two, I'm still here so let's mind the PDA."

Jerking away from each other, both she and Oliver stepped back. Cheeks blazing, she couldn't stop smiling, since as all she could think was, Jesus, her man was seriously hot.

And finally he belonged to her. Winking at him, she put more room between them, with the words, "Frankly I like PDA."

He mirrored the regret in her eyes but grinned and nodded before he frowned as Riley continued, "But you didn't flash for long and found your way back. Oliver, you did well. You realized your memories were getting the better of you and you used ice to stay here."

Oliver stood and straightened his broad shoulders, his mask slipping firmly into place. "Adrian's the important one here now. Let's focus on him."

She rubbed his arm, but his mask remained even when she agreed. "You're right. Adrian's the one who matters right now, but you talking about what happened to you is a step in the right direction."

"Felicity's right. Little by little, baby steps. You need to remember you suppressing your bad memories led to your PTSD. And it's good to see you starting to deal with your problems."

Oliver glared hard at the man.

"Okay. Let's move this on. Can we let this conversation go for now?" She gave him a big smile, hoping the man would'd stop pushing.

Leaning forward, Oliver put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed whispering, "How about we ignore him? And I'll need some sweaty exercise in the very near future. You up?"

She giggled before she nodded, and whispered back, "Exercise, I'm more than willing to provide, and I can't wait to get home to."

Riley broke in. "You're going to have to make him accountable someday, Felicity."

Oliver gave her a small peck on her lips. "Riley, I'm standing right here, you know? And I'm very willing to be accountable anytime and any place."

She nodded her head and grinned. "Look, it's been a long day. And Oliver's right, Adrian's who we need to be thinking about here. How long do you think until Anna's done with him?"

"That depends on."

The gym door slammed against the concrete wall, with a bang, interrupting Riley.

Spinning on her heels, Felicity watched a woman stormed into the gym. Her blonde hair, a terrible bleached blonde hair job, her dark roots showing, the woman wore a short tight black pencil skirt and a red blouse that she personally wouldn't be caught dead in.

Ever.

Her brain scrambled to ID the woman and her eyes locked with Oliver's.

"Adrian's mom." He mouthed and she nodded.

"Yeah and she's showing way too much cleavage." Her hand flew over her mouth before she made a comment about the woman's overly made up face.

Less is sometimes better, especially as people age, and maybe Sharon Herron should rethink her makeup, she thought, though time had not been overly kind to Adrian's mom.

The woman's face held deep lines, right under her mouth. Plainly, Sharon had spent too many years frowning, just like the frown she sported right now, as she demanded. "What the hell has Adrian done now? That boy's going to be the death of me, yet. And where the hell is Ned Walker? NED WALKER! Get your coward ass out here." She placed her hands on her hips and screamed the man's name again.

Oliver stood and reached and took her hand and winked at her.

"Never a dull moment in this life, we're in." She winked back.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He pulled her to her feet, and she smoothed her red polka dotted sundress. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for the upcoming ordeal, and then opened them and smiled at him before she faced Adrian's mother as her mind started clicking details, like the woman's full name.

Sharon Pearl Herron.

Talk about a true southern name.

Pasting a smile on her face, she extended her hand. "Hi, my name's Felicity Smoak. Nice to meet you, Ms. Herron."

"You can quit the 'I'm glad to meet you act.'" Sharon waved her hand, then crossed her arms and thrust out her chin. "Since I'd bet from the way you're dressed, you're with Protective Services. Okay, who filed a complaint this time, my ex-mother-in-law, my daughter, or that damn woman next door, who wants us to move? If it's that bitch tell her it's not happening, since my grandmother left me the house, and I paid the damn expensive taxes, which means the piece of shit house is mine for at least another year."

Oliver looked wide eyed at Felicity as she shrugged. And she'd be sure to look up who liked to turn the woman in on a regular basis just as soon as she got near her tablet or a computer. "Ms. Herron, I'm . . ."

"I know." The woman waved her hand like royalty. "I'm well aware you can't tell me who reported me."

"Ms. Herron. Look, I'm not with Protective services."

"You're not?" She looked mystified. "Oh, wait. You're Felicity Smoak? Coach Queen's?" She snapped her fingers. "Right. You're Coach Queen's fiancé?"

"Correct. And you're Sharon Herron, Adrian's mom."

"Well, nice to meet you but what the hell has Adrian done now? And how much is it going to cost me? I work for a living, you know? And let me tell you, Coach Queen, no matter what Ned says, you're not cutting him from the team."

"Cutting him from the team?" He tilted his head and frowned. "What?"

"I mean it. You can't cut him from the team. No matter what's he's done this time."

"I . . "

She interrupted. "He's a good boy. Believe me. He's been trying his best to learn to play soccer. He watches the stuff all the damn time on YouTube, and he practices with that damn soccer ball constantly. Broke my best lamp practicing, but I forgave him, since he's trying to be good and do right. But my boy's hell on shoes. He can't help it. It's his big feet. His toes keep breaking through the soles."

"He practices?" She watched Oliver blink a couple of times and she grinned.

"Yeah, all the time, and I don't care if he's not good at soccer yet. You need to give him a chance. He likes soccer. He tries. I haven't seen him this excited about something in like ever."

"He practices?"

"I said he did." The woman looked at Oliver strangely, and Felicity elbowed him and smiled as Sharon said, "I swear, you try to cut him and I'll go to Judge Franks. I'll stop you. I mean it. My boy's not off this team. My father, God bless his soul, was a lawyer, and I still have connections in this town. And trust me, I'll use them. I'll call in my markers. You are not going to throw him off the team."

"Mom!" Adrian walked out of the office, looking shocked.

Anna followed on his heels.

"Ms. Herron." Oliver gentled his voice. "I'm not cutting Adrian. Believe me. He's not off the team. You've misunderstood."

"It's another kind of problem, Ms. Herron. Why don't we step into this office?" Anna motioned.

She turned. "Adrian, don't tell me you've gotten some girl pregnant after all those conversations we've had about safe sex and condoms?" The woman rubbed her eyes then ran a hand through her bleached hair.

"MOM! There are other people present." The teen nodded his head toward Oliver and her. "And thanks for the vote of confidence that I'd knock some girl up like Glover did your stupid ass at seventeen."

"Adrian!" Several people, including Oliver and Anna, said at once but she noted the teen didn't back down.

"What? Everyone knows she only married Glover because she was pregnant with Amber before she turned eighteen. But, Mom, maybe, if you paid any attention to my life at all, you'd know I don't even have a girlfriend."

"I didn't think you were dating."

"Didn't know you cared, MOM!"

"Look, I can't win with you. If I asked you about what's going on in your life, I'm snooping, and if I step back, I'm ignoring. At least there's no baby's in your future. That's a relief, since I'm hardly ready to be a grandmother and you're not ready to be a father. But that doesn't answer what's going on with you? And why Ned would bother to call me."

The woman crossed her arms and tapped her left foot.

"I told you she wouldn't understand. She only cares about herself." Adrian turned toward Anna, shaking his head.

"We have to work to make her understand. Now you need to calm down, Adrian. Give me some time to talk to your mother. Ms. Herron, please. I'd like to have a word in private with you." Anna waved toward the open door.

"Then make me understand. What's going on, Adrian? Ned said it was important. Ned, who's been back three years and has never called, not once. Then today, out of the blue, he's blowing my phone up? What the hell's going on?"

"Why are you worried about my probation officer calling you?" Sharon's son frowned and Felicity noted the woman didn't attempt to meet her son's eyes.

But her face colored. "I'm not. I . . . I'm just concerned, worried about you, since he called."

The woman bit her lip, reddened more and then straightened her spine. And she knew enough about people to realize Sharon Herron's body language said she was indeed worried about Ned Walker.

She looked at Oliver and he shrugged, clearly clueless.

"You don't ever worry about me, Mom. Not for years. Why now? What's going on?" Adrian narrowed his eyes at his mom.

"Ned . . . I mean Mr. Walker has never called me about you. So when he does, of course, it worries me."

"Well, maybe you should spend some time worrying about me since I'm . . ."

"You're what. Go on spit it out."

"Fine you want to know. I'm a cutter."

"A cutter?"

Adrian thrust his chest out. "Yeah, I like cutting myself. And I've been for doing it for the last two half years. But then why would you care? You're never home, anyway."

Sharon visually deflated. Felicity noted that the fingers the woman speared through her bleached hair shook. "What are you talking about?"

Anna stepped forward. "Ms. Herron, your son's self-harming. He's been cutting his stomach for years, hiding it from everyone, and now, we have to help him stop. All of us need to help him learn better coping skills, and we need to get on the same page here and help Adrian get better."

The women moved faster than Felicity thought she could as she crossed the room and jerked Adrian's shirt up. "Let me see. Jesus, what have you done? My baby."

"Stop, Mom! Stop, I'm not a baby." He pushed her hands away.

"I know that but, oh, Adrian, how could I have missed this? How could you have done this?"

The door banged open, slamming hard into the brick wall, and Ned entered, smelling like cigarettes, with a slight flush on his face. But the instant he spotted Sharon Herron, he looked at his shoes like they were the most interesting things in the room as he froze on the spot.

Slowly, he looked up and as she watched, Ned's eyes swept with longing over Sharon, and the woman turned and self-consciously blushed. Again, Felicity watched her hands tremble as she smoothed her hands down her black skirt, and as she watched, Ned locked down his look in a heartbeat, erasing it from his face, like it had never been.

Looking at Oliver, she watched him arch an eyebrow at her.

"Did you see that?" She whispered, recognizing Ned and Sharon's soulful exchange, since she and Oliver had worn that same look for years.

He nodded and she looked back at Ned's now hard, unforgiving face.

The man narrowed his eyes as he glared at Sharon. "Well, look who's finally here. I would have bet against you showing but it's nice of you to honor us with your royal presence."

Pain flashed across Sharon's face but the woman covered the look well, tucking it quickly away. Yet again, Felicity recognized the emotion for what it was, since she and Oliver had played that painful game for years. Turning her head she caught his eyes, and he gave her a small grin and winked at her.

"Why wouldn't I come? After all these years, you finally graced me with not just one but several phone calls."

Ned blew hard through his nose. Then, he growled the words, "I'm just surprised since you've missed every monthly meeting I've set up with you since Adrian's been on probation. I'd almost think you're avoiding me on purpose, Mrs. Stein."

"It's Herron and it's Ms. And you sent a piece of paper. You never called."

"When you go back to your maiden name? It was Stein on the court papers."

"That's none of your business." She looked down at the floor and her finger twisted her dyed hair for a second before she jerked her hand back to firmly clasp the bright pink bag she had thrown over her shoulder.

"You still missed all the meetings." He growled the words.

Yet, Felicity, noted the woman refused to meet Ned's eyes. "I work, you know? I'm busy. I don't have Navy retirement to live on, and I have a kid to support. But then you never cared about that, have you?"

Riley laughed and shook his head. "Jesus, this like being back in high school. I wish you two would finished this thing between you and be done with it."

"There's nothing to finish." Both, Sharon and Ned said heatedly at the same time.

Riley snorted. "Right! You two have thrown sparks ever since we were in elementary school. He put gum in your hair and you kicked him in the balls in JR high, and he dropped like a stone. And both of you have gone out of your way to not be in the same room for the last couple of years. Why is that?"

Silence answered him and she and Oliver looked at each other again.

Sharon recovered first and as Felicity watched, she realized the woman had frosted over. It was like Adrian's mother had just bathed in ice. Her face turned into a stone mask, her back straightened, and she narrowed her eyes and she spat the words. "That's none of your business and like in our school days, Riley, you don't know what you're talking about, so I suggest unless one of you are talking about this cutting my boy's doing, you better shut your damn mouth."

Ned growled, "Not my place but I can tell you that your boy's got a problem you need to be made aware of. But it would probably be best if Ms. Anna or Adrian himself explains it to you."

"Ms. Herron, Adrian, if you could step into this office, we could talk more about this." Anna motioned toward the door she'd just walked out of.

"My boy!" She hissed. "You're darn right he's my boy and always has been. Yeah, just walk away, Ned Walker, since that's what you do best. See if I care."

"And the ice queen has entered the building." Ned muttered, and Sharon turned on him.

"How dare you call me that?" She moved to slap him but he caught her hand.

"I dare plenty." He thrust her away from him.

"You always were a jerk, Edward Hawthorne Walker."

Ned stiffened and Riley snickered.

"Hawthorne?" Oliver questioned.

"Yeah, my mom was a Nathaniel Hawthorne fan. And all of you better forget you ever heard that name, especially you, Adrian."

"Nathaniel Hawthorne who?" Oliver scratched his head. "Seriously, Ned, your middle name is Hawthorne?"

"Yeah, it is." Riley grinned. "We had a hell of a good time teasing him when we were young."

Felicity shook her blonde head. "And since I know you never made it to Advanced Lit, Oliver, Nathaniel Hawthorne was an American novelist, born in 1804 in Salem, Massachusetts. He wrote dark romance and short stories."

Ned spat the words, "Right, hey, Sharon, remember the The Scarlet Letter? Maybe you'd recognize the similarly between you and Hester?"

"Damn you, Ned. You're the one you left me high and dry. You promised me." The woman lunged toward Ned and pushed hard against his chest but he caught her and drug her bodily against him.

"Now things are getting interesting." Riley leaned forward in his seat. "She always did try to push him around."

"Sharon, trust me now's not the time or the place to rehash old times."

"Let me go. Damn you. Like there has ever been a time or a place with you. Besides you're the one who broke your word to me."

"Mom, please stop. You're going to get me in more trouble than I already am." Adrian stepped closer.

"Oh, I haven't even started making trouble yet. And he wouldn't dare do anything to you, would you, Ned? After all you've not said one word in all these years. Why would you start now?"

"What's going on?" Felicity asked. "I feel like I just stepped into a mystery, without any clues. Riley? Anna? Ned? A little help here."

"Shh," Riley said, "This is about to get good. They were old flames in high school and beyond."

"Oh, OH. That makes more sense then. Somewhat? But I thought Sharon married someone else."

"She did. She accidentally got pregnant by the high school quarterback trying to piss Ned off by dating him. Worked too. He was roaring mad." Riley nodded. "Unfortunately, the relationship with Grover didn't last. And she ended up giving the baby to his mom. Adrian, who she had five years later, she kept."

"Oh. That makes a little more sense."

"Well, I'm glad this is making sense to you, since I'm lost," Oliver scrubbed his face, and she turned her attention back to the disagreement in the middle of the room.

Ned had paled. "Sharon, that's not what happened. I wrote you more than once. You're the one who didn't write back. And when I came back you had Adrian, so clearly like normal, like Hester, you didn't wait."

"Damn you. I did. I waited for months. You promised me you were going to come back for me. I waited. You promised me."

"You're the one who didn't answer my letters."

"I did . . . I wrote you, told you but you left me high and dry and preg . . ." She slapped her hand over her mouth as the color drained out of her face.

She pulled away from Ned and he hesitated but he let her go, even though clearly she could see Ned didn't want to release her, and Felicity realized what Sharon had started to say.

Riley grinned, clearly enjoying this exchange, and she grabbed Oliver's forearm and squeezed.

"Damn it, Sharon. What did you just say? Are you saying that you were. . ." Ned's face whitened.

"Stop! Don't say it."

"No, finish what you were going to say, Mom." Adrian's tone turned deadly. "What are you saying?"

"Don't act like you don't know about him. Don't act like you haven't ignored him all these years."

The rest of the blood drained out of Ned's face as he turned to Adrian and looked.

Felicity noticed that Ned truly looked at Adrian and the man frowned.

"Mom, this is not about you. Why is it always about you?" Adrian moved to stand beside Ned, and Felicity inhaled sharply seeing the resemblance for the first time.

"Okay, I don't have a clue what either of them are talking about." Oliver shook his head.

"Hush, and look at them." Felicity replied.

"Ms. Herron, could we have a word in private." Anna tried to intervene.

Felicity tapped his arm repeatedly as it clicked in her head.

"What?"

"Look at them, Oliver." She pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture and thrust the screen at him. "Don't you see it?"

"What?"

"Ned and Adrian. Look at their stance, their faces and their gestures." Felicity cut her eyes at him and waved her hands.

"Shit, your right." Riley stood on his blades. "Ned, wow, he looks just like you. He's the spitting image of you when you were young."

"No way." Ned shook his head.

"Shut up, Riley." Sharon hissed. "Ned walked away. He doesn't get to claim him. He's mine and mine alone. And he always has been."

"Mom? What are you talking about?"

"Shit, Adrian, when's your birthday? What month?" Ned harsh tone filled the air.

"Don't tell him. It's none of his business. Come on, let's go home." Sharon ordered.

"April 5th."

"Adrian. Damn it. You shouldn't have told him."

Ned's Adam apple bobbed, repeatedly, his voice turned deadly. "It's okay, I could have looked it up. But, shit, let me be wrong, but I'll guess the year to be 2000."

"Yeah, that's right." Adrian growled.

Ned flipped around and faced her, his face white. "Sharon, you didn't? Tell me you didn't? Jesus, is he mine?"

"You're the one who walked away and left me to raise him by myself. Damn you, Ned. You didn't come back for me. I waited and you deserted me."

"Fuck me. I did not. I got told to stay away. I . . . fuck me." And Ned dropped like a stone to the floor, and this time Adrian's beefy arms barely managed to catch Ned's body before he hit his head on the concrete floor.

"Hell, no." Riley said. "He's Ned's? Sharon? What the hell? And I supposed you screwed around on him again?"

"Shut the hell up, Riley, before I kick you in the balls, blades and all. He's the one that left me pregnant and alone. He promised he would come back and he didn't. I did the best I could."

"Mom? Seriously, Ned Walker's my dad? What the fuck? I thought you said my dad came and went? That he was a drifter?"

"Language, Adrian." Anna said.

"I can explain, Adrian. I waited for him. I loved him. Jesus, I still love him." Sharon nodded as she knelt beside Ned on the floor and her face softened.

Oliver looked at her and nodded to Ned on the floor. "Wow, look at that. Fainting must be in the genes."

She nodded and said, "Yeah, like father like son it seems."

Adrian looked at his mom then he laid Ned gently on the floor, and he jumped up and rushed out the door.

"Wait, Adrian. Come back. Let me explain."

But it was too late, Adrian was gone, the door slamming hard against the locker room wall.

#####OQ#####

Look forward to hearing from you! Happy New Year.


End file.
